


The Community: Her Stallion

by sightsoblind



Series: The Community [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Male Character, Bit Gag, Cunnilingus, D/s, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Gags, Leather and lace, M/M, Male Protagonist, Pegging, Pony Play, Praise Kink, Story Driven, male sub
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:51:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6663160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sightsoblind/pseuds/sightsoblind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anya never meant to love horses more than people it just worked out that way. When she looses her beloved Stallion Tomas teaches her about the world of Pony Play and for some time what they have is Enough. Until it isn't. She needs a stallion with fire and spirit.</p><p> </p><p>This is the story of how Apollo went from being Power's Boy to being Apollo as we know and love him in Daddy's Little Girl. A story that (Mostly) Stands on it's own. I'm putting it as Multi Chapter because I already know I have more to say here we've got four years before the between the end of this and the beginning of Daddy's Little Girl after all. </p><p> </p><p>ALRIGHT HERE'S THE DEAL...</p><p>This has been getting a REALLY disaappointing reaponse and is in danger of cancelation, I have 14 other stories that need workin on so I am giving you a chance to save this from complete cancellation... comment... share... kudos... anything to remind me you liked it because last chapter got like 20 hits...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wild Thing

Princess Anya Marcella Diana Elizabeth Rachel of Austria was nine the first time she fell in love. He was wet and unsteady on his feet as in the dark of the back stables she reached out and touched him hand sliding down his neck slowly. He was so beautiful.

“PRINCESS!” The stable Master called in alarm rushing back to the newly birthed colt wobbling under her hand. The dam was still too exhausted from the birth to object. “Princess Anya! Please be careful!” The colt was a mistake, a wild stallion had broken through the holding fences where they were trying to keep the Dam safe and had sired the beast. The Masters of the house had been furious about the loss of her breeding season and he was to be weaned and sold as quickly as possible.

“He's so beautiful.” She whispered softly and the Stable Master watched as the colt only minutes old pushed his head into her small frame and she wrapped arms around him. The stable Master watched in horror and fascination as she led him to his mother who was just now standing and guided him to suckle.

“Take good care of him. He is going to be a champion one day.” The stable Master had seen that look before in the eyes of his employers. It was a reminder that they had once been true kings even if it was little more than a title now. But head high and back straight she stalked out back toward the big house.

 

* * *

 

 

Three years ago when his niece had stormed into his office and announced she knew what she wanted for her birthday and lay claim to the half wild Andalusian he was sure she would move onto some new fancy within a few months and he could have the thing gelded and sent away. But now, watching her tear across the field taking fences and leaving her entourage in the dust he knew he had been terribly wrong. She came to a halt in front of him a sheen of sweat on her brow she rocked forward in the saddle to stroke down his neck.

 

“We're going to win tomorrow.” It was neither a boast nor a question. She was simply stating a fact.

 

“I know darling. You're parent's are coming to watch you compete. Are you coming in at all today? Shall I send the others away?” He laughed when she leveled him with a disapproving glare.

 

“There is nothing for me inside your walls Uncle, not when the hills are calling and the sun is out. Can you have a dinner sent to the tree by the western stream I'll meet them there by six but it is too beautiful not to ride and you know he gets so lonely without me.” She leaned forward and the great beast leaned around to nuzzle into her.

 

“If he would stop biting my stock he wouldn't have to be lonely you know.” The girl dismissed him with a wave. The truth was Anya was the only living creature the great brute didn't bite. The only one he even tolerated and she loved him just as much as he loved her.

 

“Tell the others to go away you know they can't keep up with us any way. We will be back before nightfall.” She turned and spun off. Someday she was going to be a beautiful woman and men would come from every corner of the world to seek out her hand and retreat in shame when she snubbed them for her horse.

 

* * *

 

There was nothing in the world like the feeling of power beneath her. She and Zeus moved as one as the world disappeared behind them she shifted forward and urged him into a run letting him have his head. Without warning a spark lit starting between her legs and shooting up her belly. She gasped at the sensation and leaned harder into it. She could feel the thunderous beat of his hooves as they struck the earth sending electric sensations through her until the reigns slid from her fingers and she held tight to his mane burying her face in his neck. The smells of horse and sweat mixed with the new sensations awakened within her drove her higher and higher leaving her mindless whimpering against him his pace never slowing until in a single glorious moment it all came together and she screamed in pleasure and joy as some unnameable beautiful thing shot through her and she went boneless atop him.

 

Zeus slowed and came to a stop reaching back to nuzzle against her worriedly. She slid from his back hands shaking to stroke his face calming him. “Oh Zeus. Oh I saw stars!” There was a wet between her legs and careful fingers slid into her pants. Nurse had warned her that only bad girls touched themselves there but she needed to know if it had begun, if she was finally becoming a woman. There was no blood just a clear slick and she carefully sniffed it before Zeus's lips and tongue closed questing over her fingers cleaning them before nosing into her pockets looking for his treats. She slipped him a carrot and bit her lip thinking back over the events of the last few moments. She hadn't done anything wrong. Technically she hadn't touched herself at all. She patted his flank. “Kneel.” Zeus dropped and she slid back into the saddle rocking forward again. “Let's go, my good boy, let's see if we can do that again.”

 

* * *

 

 

The rain poured down in sheets outside as Princess Anya Marcella Diana Elizabeth Rachel of Austria stared into it. It could rain forever and she wouldn't care one bit, her heart was broken shattered into a thousand pieces that would never fit together again.

 

“Miss Anya please, take some tea.” Tomas pressed a cup into her hands and she turned to stare at him. He had never seen such pain in someone's eyes over a horse before but then again there had very rarely been a horse and rider like Zeus and Anya.

 

“Please tell me I'm dreaming Tomas, please.” She was on the verge of tears and he gathered her into his arms tightly against the tears.

 

“It's ok, Anya it's going to be ok. I know how much he meant to you. I know he was special.” Tomas had been a stable hand when Anya had first laid claim to the half wild beast. He'd watched the girl and Stallion grow together. She was fourteen when his first suspicions began but he ignored them sure it was simply his own preference coloring his view. The years had only gone on to prove what he had been suspicious of. “I just wanted you to know, you're not alone, Miss Anya.” He pressed a book into her hands. “I'll be in my cottage, if you wish to talk, or if you wish to have me sacked. I understand no matter what you choose but you don't need to be alone.”

 

Tomas made his was back to his home heart heavy for the poor girl. One way or another he would land on his feet he still had plenty of money to support him and there would be another stable somewhere in the world he could call home.

 

Just last night she was supposed to be at a fancy dress party for her own twenty fourth birthday but had stolen away. Half drunk she had made her way into the stables and hitched her dress up around her waist climbing bare onto Zeus's back. The sounds of her impassioned moans as she had rocked against him had drawn the attention of the Ambassador and his Mistress who had retired to the stables for a tryst of their own. The scandal might have been contained if it wasn't for the Mistress running screaming into the party that Princess Anya was fucking her horse.

 

Tomas stepped into his cottage and opened the chest at the foot of his bed. Loving hands ran over his tack and careful finger combed through his tail. It had been five years since he had worn them. Twelve years since another had put them on him. Peter hadn't been cruel about letting him go but it had broken his heart all the same. His contract was up and Peter wanted a pony that could carry him, not one whose knee was going and would only be good for dressage. He had loved his rider and the thought of taking another had terrified him. Now though, if she wanted it. If Princess Anya wished it of him, maybe, just maybe, he could find the courage to show her the world that lay just beyond sight and teach her how beautiful a thing could be between a horse and rider.

 

* * *

 

 

Anya had read the small book cover to cover twice. She stared at it there in her hands it's red leather cover giving nothing away about the words within. She needed to know more. She needed to know everything. Tomas was safe, right? He had been with her uncle's estate since she was a girl. She slid silently from her rooms avoiding the guards. She'd snuck out often enough under the cover of darkness she was sure no one would spot her and besides all eyes were waiting for her to go left to the stables not right to the cottages. She found Tomas's cottage with a minimum of fuss and knocked gently. She hadn't seen him since just before lunch and it was late now. Perhaps he had thought the worst and quit the property. She nearly gave into her nerves and fled before the door cracked open. Hair sleep tousled and shirt hanging open he blinked at her blearily.

 

“I thought...” He began but she didn't let him finish.

 

“I need to know more. Please, I need to know more.” She was supposed to be a proper girl. She had a bloodline to rival the finest steeds and thousands of years of history to her family. She may have only been a second daughter twenty third in line to the empty throne of Austria living with an uncle in the deep hills of Spain but the weight of who she was supposed to be was suffocating her and the life in his book called to her like fresh clean air. Something that called to a piece of her soul that she had tried so hard to deny and make disappear.

 

He pulled the door open slowly. “Come on in.”

 

* * *

 

 

Her family was content that it had been a passing drunken moment and Anya had turned away from the equestrian life. The rumors died with a few months and they gladly turned a blind eye to the friendship she had struck with one of the help. At least he was human.

 

Anya, for her part was finding herself. It had taken two weeks of talking and discussing before Tomas would agree to show her his tack. That very night he had guided her through as she had dressed him with trembling hands her heart in a quickstep her breath catching in her throat. He was beautiful as a pony even if he wasn't quite Zeus he was enough. She would walk him at night behind the closed curtains of his cottage and during the day they would roam the grounds as she would quietly correct his step. She carried carrots and sugar cubes in her pocket and when no one would see she would feed him gently by hand.

 

It was enough they told each other even as he would dream of wider hands to hold his reigns and she would crave a mount with fire in his eyes. They were happy enough.

 

They had been together a year and her parents had been making noise about her going on a tour. She was avoiding it for now not willing to give up the moments they shared knowing there would be no time if they were hopping from city to city and no guarantee of enough privacy. She was combing out his hair grown long now at her request when the knock came at the door startling them both. He pulled a shirt on covering his harness and turned to her to get her to remove the tail.

 

Anya just smiled impishly. “Leave it in. My pony wants to answer the door like a man he will remember the whole time where he belongs, beneath me.” She pressed a cube of cheese to his lips and he took it gently nipping her fingers. She slapped his flank and pushed him toward the door. He kept his body turned to hide the tail from view as he opened the door.

 

“Ma... Peter?” It had been thirteen years since he'd seen the other man. It took everything he had to remember those years and not fall back to calling him Master once more. Peter had been the one to let him go. Peter had been the one who left. He had a new rider now. He had a Mistress who loved him and they were enough. She was sitting only a few feet away he reminded himself. She would protect him. He found his voice again even if he couldn't keep the anger out of it. “What the fuck are you doing here?!?!?”

 

“I've come to see you. May I come in?” Tomas slammed the door in his face.

 

He wasn't aware he was shaking until Anya stepped up behind him pressing close running her hands down his sides hushing him softly. “Shh, That's a good boy Hermes. Whose my good boy. Shh, settle now. It's ok. We're ok. Come on settle down boy settle good boy. Are you ready to tell me who was at the door or do I need to call security and have them thrown off the property. You can just shake.”

 

“It's, Peter, Mistress.” He didn't want the tears in his eyes. He didn't want the hitch in his breath. He didn't want his old Master to effect him in such a way. He didn't want him to show up and punch holes in the fragile mantra of this life being enough.

 

She shifted gently away from him for only a moment before she pressed the bit and bridle between his teeth and led him back to the bedroom. She hitched him in the corner and directed him to rest down on the sweet hay they had gathered for his use there. He calmed and centered his breathing giving over to her. She would take care of it. She would make him go away so he could try and be happy again with out him.

 

Anya stepped out of the room and answered the door again. He canted his head straining to hear what would pass between them.

 

“I would like you to leave. You've done enough I think and you're unsettling my mount.” He missed the exchange that followed but it took the better part of a quarter hour before Anya returned. He had known so many of her moods he thought he had seen them all but this was something new. She was silent and pensive. She brought his brushes back with her and carefully began to groom him down as she spoke. She left the bit in place removing any burden of his response.

 

“He came to tell you several things but we'll leave the rest for later if you like. Alexander Blackstone is dying. He has stage four cancer and it should only be a few months. He wanted to offer to bring you back to say goodbye. I will take you if you would like to go. You don't need to owe him anything.” In that moment Tomas was sure he would have shattered into a thousand pieces of pain and despair if it wasn't for her calming touch grounding him. She would take care of him. She would take care of everything. She wouldn't let Master Blackstone die without Tomas having a chance to thank him for all he had done to change his life.

 

“There's more but, I don't want to put it off on you unless your ready.” He pushed into her hands and whinnied around the bit. He trusted her she wouldn't let anything bad happen. She wouldn't let Peter tear his heart out again. “He want's you back.” The careful mask of nothing she had been holding slipped for just a moment and he saw the pain painted clearly. She didn't want to lose him. She wanted to keep him but would have let him go free if that's what he wanted too. In that moment he wished he could have loved her the way she deserved to be loved. As a woman and not just as his rider. It was the woman bit his body just refused to get past.

 

He wined against it and pulled at his reigns thrashing until she wrapped around him once again hushing him. “Shh, settle boy, settle down. No one is taking you away. We're going to go and say goodbye and you can hold your head high and he will see how wrong he was to let such a beautiful beast go. My beautiful stallion.”

 

They never did move from the hay that night. They slept wrapped around each other clinging to the fragile threads of the life they had built behind closed doors. It was enough. Please let it keep being enough.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn't enough. She knew it the first moment he stepped straighter and studiously ignored his old Master who would come to the corral to watch him walk. Anya was aware her Hermes was not just gay but still in love with his old Master from the beginning. It wasn't as if it had come as a surprise. She was also aware he stayed not because he did not wish to go but because he did not wish to leave her. She was the only thing holding him back.

 

Peter came everyday. He spoke only to her raining praises down on Tomas. He never overstepped his boundaries and gave her due respect as a handler but he was persistent. He was willing to do whatever it took to convince Tomas he was serious about regretting letting him go. That he was earnest in his love for the man and wanting him back.

 

Anya had taken Peter to one side late one night when Tomas was inside with the others.

 

“I'm going to be leaving soon. Japan I think then on to Korea for a bit. I've got his passport. I'll mail it back in a month.” She felt like her heart was breaking again. It was worse that losing Zeus.

 

“Why would you mail it back? It's not going to do much good with... Oh.” Peter lapsed into silence.

 

“He's stubborn, and anyone could see how much he loves you. If he wasn't worried about hurting me he would have come running back ages ago. Besides we've both known for a very long time we were lying to ourselves. It's just, it's not enough. I fell in love with a half wild Andalusian Stallion and when he was taken from me what we had was enough. But there's not enough wild in him. He's domestic, a show pony, not a war horse. I have every intention of coming back someday if I can just find a stallion a bit more wild. One who could actually get it up for me would be nice too.” She laughed at her own joke the humor a balm to the pain of letting him go.

 

“Anna, I don't know what to say. I'm not sure Micheal will let it stand, you abandoning him like that. He's a bit of a weird one on Dom rights. Puts a lot of importance on the submissives. We're going to be facing a lot of changes. We could both lose him forever.” Peter had spent two years trying to find his boy. He had no desire to lose him now over a stupid new edict.

 

“I've already spoken to him. We're in agreement that it's whats best for Tomas. He loves you. You love him. I'm just this weird third wheel who keeps mucking up the works. He will always be dear to me but I need to move on so he can too.” The pair lapsed into silence and Peter squeezed her hand gently in the dark.

 

“Thank you.” He whispered and she found nothing more needed to be said. They both wanted the same thing, they wanted Tomas to be happy.

 

The walk back to the ranch house was interrupted when a young woman in a pink frilly dress came running down the lane tears streaming down her face. “Alexander, he's...” She burst into tears again and Anya gathered her close.

 

“Peter will you go tell the house. Just, be there for him. I'm going to walk on with Andrea to tell everyone else. I promise I'll stay through the funeral.”

 

* * *

 

He stood with the family towering over the tallest by at least a foot. The wife leaned heavily on him and he held like granite. There was a set to his shoulders and in his eyes as he stood taller, stronger, straighter, wild. Her heart beat out of turn watching him. It wasn't until that evening when they had gathered in memorial that she even dared hope.

 

“I'm very sorry for your loss.” He had turned to look at her suddenly from where he had been staring past her over her head ignoring everyone and everything as if they were beneath him.

 

“Thank you for your concern Mistress.” His voice was deep and his accent thick, clearly Kenyan, it rumbled through her sending an electric sensation right to her core that she hadn't felt since she held Zeus between her thighs.

 

She wanted in a way she had thought she had forgotten as she swallowed thickly around the sudden lump in her chest. Suddenly there was hope. Hope that someday she would find the hope she had held so dearly that first night she had begged Tomas to tell her everything.

 

“You belong to the family then? Where is your Mistress I'd like to give her my condolences as well. It's a hard thing to lose a spouse.” She watched as his jaw ticked and a ripple passed over him. She longed to reach out and soothe the tension away. To hush him and call him to settle. Her legs pressed together a bit tighter it wouldn't do to be seen getting all hot and bothered over someone else's slave.

 

“No Mistress. I belong to no one. I am simply a friend with nowhere to go and no one to want me Mistress.” If Anya had thought she wanted before it was only a candle to the raging wildfire that his words lit within her.

 

She couldn't help the half step she took forward into him. “I wouldn't say that.” It came out a bit breathlessly and she cursed her failure in that moment. Where was her decorum now? Do not show weakness in front of a wild beast. It was one of the first lessons she had ever learned when she was a child trying to train up Zeus. “I'm looking for a stallion currently. Last one turned out to be gay and still in love with his old Master.” She licked her lips and smiled biting the swell of the lower gently as she watched his gaze fall to her mouth with the movement. “You don't have that problem do you?”

 

“No, Mistress.” His voice was softer even if it had not lost an ounce of it's wild strength. His eyes were glued to her lips.

 

“It would please me to take a walk.” Without another word she turned and left. Her heart was beating pounding in her chest as she moved down the gravel path. He would follow or he would not. The offer was made and there was nothing more to be done. She refused to slow or stop when she heard the heavy footfalls behind her. She lifted her chin and pulled on every last ounce of royal bearing she held. _Head high, Anya, ignore them because they do not matter. You do not need their approval._ Her nurses words echoed back at her. It wouldn't do to show weakness now. Maybe it didn't just need to be enough. If she played this right there could be fire and passion again.

 

She came to a halt just beside the corral the entire thing abandoned for the memorial happening in the center of town and the trees that separated the ranch from the rest of The Community left them with some semblance of privacy.

 

“Have you ever been ridden?” She asked without ever turning to look at him only half sure he was the one who had followed.

 

“No Mistress. If it pleases you to teach, I will learn.” The rough timber of his voice washed over her like velvet and she couldn't help the shudder that passed through her. She turned glad to find the look in his eyes had not quieted when they were alone.

 

“It would please me greatly to ride a beast as beautiful as you are. I would do whatever it took to stay here forever if you fulfill the promise I see in you. Down.” He dropped to his knees so quickly she could feel the force of it through the ground. Sure steps led her across the few feet that separated them. Her hands were steady as she popped the buttons of his shirt one after the next pulling it away revealing skin as ebon black as the stallion who had first awoken her love of horses. He was covered in scars long healed but they did nothing to mar the perfection she saw in him. The shirt was pushed away to fall forgotten and forsaken on the ground. She could feel the tension in him as she ran hands over the expanse of his back and sides. “Shh, such a beautiful boy. Shh Beautiful Boy settle now, settle. I'm sorry I don't have a proper saddle for you. One day I will ride you upright for now over you go.” She pushed at his shoulders and down he went to all fours. “There you go. Such a good boy. Such a beautiful stallion.” She went back to her stroking trying to calm the beating of her heart. She stepped back and pulled open the door to the covered corral. The soft sawdust inside would be better for a bare ride. She clicked her tongue and he came to her on all fours. He was all power and beauty and wild sensuality. She hitched her skirts up slowly and pealed her panties away. They were soaked already and she needed to feel him beneath her.

 

“Mmm, I don't have a proper bridle. We can use this for now.” She pressed her thumb into the side of his jaw working his mouth open before sliding the crotch of them between his teeth. To work as the bit. She pulled the strings of the sides over his head watching as his nostrils flared his hips canting forward in a quick thrust. “Such a good boy. He took to his bridle so well.” She found she couldn't keep her hands off him stroking down his sides once more. Her hands roamed under him until she found everything she had ever dreamed of. He was hard and straining against his pants. His hips pressing forward against the gentle pressure of her hand. “Oh we do have a stallion on our hands. I was getting rather tired of geldlings.” She swung a leg over his back and settled her core directly against him. “Step!” She called and forward he went. She had asked for wild. She had prayed for it in the darkest of nights and in the deepest of her fantasies where she would admit that the docile nature of Hermes was simply not enough. She walked him around the corral in three full circles before the movement beneath her had her coming undone on his back. He had arched into her causing her to cling tightly just to keep her seat. The effect was enough to send her over the edge again almost immediately.

 

She needed more. Quickly she dismounted and directed him up. “Stallions have hooves not hands. So put those up. There you are. Come on. Follow. High steps high steps. Such a good boy.” She led him back into the stables and to an empty stall on the end guiding him in. She made quick work of his belt and pants as she directed him to step out of them. The ride had done nothing to quell his reaction to her. “We're not done yet. Down. Onto your back there you go. Such a good boy.” Her hands closed around him stroking him softly as he bucked up into her. “You know one of the most important things a horse Master needs to know is that their pedigree is assured. I never trusted Zeus to mount a filly on his own. There's too much danger a wild beast like you two would hurt her. When I would stud him I would have to milk him. Most liked to hire a professional to do it for them but something about all that power just, well quite frankly I needed to do it myself.” She stepped to stand over him one leg to either side lowering herself slowly. She put his hands carefully to either side of his head. “Stay. You great wild beasty.”

 

His breath was coming in short shallow pants now as she lined him up to her entrance. She'd never had anything inside further than her entrance. Too many years of being told no man but her husband should touch her had held her back. But what lay beneath her was no man, she told herself. He was a horse, her very own perfect pony and he wanted her. She lowered herself onto his great length her head falling back at the sensation. For a moment she felt like she was being split in two and it was everything she had ever dreamed.

 

* * *

 

She wanted him. She saw his scars and still wanted him. It was like an impossible dream long forgotten in the waves of pity that were usually directed his way. They looked at him and only saw what had been done so many years ago. He had been filled with hatred and rage standing at the graveside watching Augustus Powers standing beside the young Asian man. The boy was ill and he had told Micheal as much. Then he had been left alone in the middle of a memorial caught between those with looks of pity and those who could not even meet his eye. Until the Mistress spoke and she held neither pity nor shame. She called him beautiful she said she wanted him. He knew there was only pain there. Those that had ever tried to take him in had done so because his tolerance was legendary. But she did not want his pain. She wanted his rage. So he gave it to her. He pulled when she pushed just enough to keep her interested. He would do anything she wanted if she just kept wanting him.

 

He thought they were done when they had come back to the stables. He was ready to be left strung up and needing release ready to suffer the pain of it slowly fading. He had been so wrong. He had never known anything like her tight wet warmth. He bucked up into her pushing back again. He was ready to be her wild beast. Her nails dug deeply into his chest as she rode him for a second time that afternoon. It took everything in him to pay attention. To read her expressions rather than lose himself into the sensations. She was a wild thing herself riding him to her peak three more times before she finally collapsed forward onto him. Her hands circled his wrists and she lifted only a few inches hovering over him.

 

He could feel the brush of her full lips against the shell of her ear as she whispered softly. “Fuck me Apollo. Fuck me like the Stallion I know beats in your heart. Come for me. Fill me.” In the whole of his life he had never once disobeyed an order, he had no intention of starting now. He pushed into her with wild abandon bucking hard up into her. She cried out clenching around him again slamming down holding him deep within as he let go filling her as she had requested.

 

He lipped at the top of her head, the only thing he could reach on her much smaller frame, as he had seen other ponies do to riders as a sign of affection. A genuine smile found it's way to his lips a soft contented sigh escaped her. He nuzzled softly into her and she rose slowly there was a sparkle in her eyes and a smile on her lips. “My Beautiful Stallion, have you not had enough? Zeus used to love the taste of me after a good long ride. Is that what you want? To clean the sloppy mess you've made of me.” He whinnied for her and bucked up into her once more grinning as her eyes fluttered closed. She moved gingerly rising off of him and turning to lower herself over his face. He lifted his head careful to keep his hands right where she put them and feasted on her. He had been fed his own seed and this was hardly the first time he had pleased a Mistress with his mouth but something about the mixture of the two was intoxicating.

 

His tongue swept into her folds catching every last drop even as he pushed her over the edge once more and was forced to lay across his chest unable to hold herself up any longer. He just kept going, she had given him no order or direction to stop and he had every intention of making her push him off her. She came twice more before she rolled off away from him. Carefully she pulled her panties from his mouth. Rather than taking them away she pressed them into his hands and he hoped she would let him keep them. He only had a few things of his own but his first bridle no matter how impromptu was one he wished to keep forever. “Settle my sweet boy settle.”

 

He could think of no greater words she could have given him. Over and over she had claimed him called him hers and it was everything he had ever dreamed it would be. She moved back over slowly pushing him to roll to the side before wrapping arms around him tucking herself into his back. “So beautiful.” She whispered softly and he couldn't help the tears that pricked at the corners of his eyes. “What's your name?” She mumbled through a yawn.

 

“Boy, Mistress, it is the only thing I can ever remember being called.” He answered softly so afraid of disturbing her and being sent away for his insolence.

 

“Mmm, I always name my horses after the Gods, it would please me to call you Apollo. It feels like it's been raining for so so long and the sun has finally come out.” She snuggled deeper into his back.

 

“I only wish to please you Mistress.” For the first time in a long time it was not hollow or in an effort to avoid more pain, it wasn't even in a bid to be allowed to stay. More than anything he truly wished to please her.

 

“I just need a moment. We will get you washed and brushed down in just a minute. I promise, even if it's all your fault you have to sit in your own sweat you sweet beautiful wild thing.” Moments later her breathing was slow and even behind him. The tears fell freely then and he leaned forward to kiss her knuckles gently. “Yours. As long as you want me.” He whispered.

 

* * *

 

The world had gotten dark while he slept. A fleece blanket was tossed over him but the Mistress was no where to be seen. Slowly he stood afraid to move out of the stall he looked about.

 

He could see her just beyond the cracked doors of the stable speaking to Jolene. He could see the tension clearly across the mistresses face as Jolene spoke. His heart fell as he knew what was happening. Jolene was telling her everything. She was going to learn his history and it would all be lost to him. She could never want him once he knew. He watched as she pushed past Jolene and stalked toward the stables. Jolene started after her and grabbed her elbow pulling her back. He couldn't hear the words but the sound of the slap carried clearly. The Mistresses twisted her arm out of Jolene's grip and slid through the doors. The Boy stepped back into the shadows the last of the light catching on the angry red hand print across the Mistresses' face. She pulled the door shut and cast the entire stable into darkness.

 

Absolute silence reigned and he sunk back to his knees in the middle of the stall and waited. He grit his jaw and tried to prepare himself for the words he was sure would come. He had heard them a thousand times over. He was good enough for a day or a week but not to keep, the cravings he satisfied in them were never around for long.

 

Moments stretched on and nothing happened. His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness and he rose just enough to see over the half wall of his stall. She still stood just inside the doors hand on the knob but her forehead had pressed into the wood. He watched as he chest heaved with the force of her sobs but she stifled the noise to nothing more than the harsh intake of breath.

 

“Mistress?” He questioned softly unsure of what he should be doing or if he should even be witness to her breakdown.

 

She startled her head snapping up to turn to him. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. You looked so peaceful sleeping. I'm sorry if I bothered you.” She dashed the tears from her eyes with the heal of her hand. “I'm sorry about, everything today really. I had thought you wanted, I mean, I'm not used to this place where you don't really have an option. I had thought you wanted to come with me. I thought you wanted, this.” She waved at the stable and herself with one large sweep of her hand. She stepped over and pulled the door to the stable open. “Miss Jolene is waiting to walk back with you. I'll be leaving in the morning.” She didn't leave him a moment to object or to find a way to ask to stay she was just gone back out striding toward the ranch house with the same purposeful stride that had called him to follow in the first place.

 

He barely had time to process before Jolene was there gathering his pants and handing them to him. “I swear they think they can just rule the world! Micheal will be putting protections up to stop things like this from happening again. Just taking what she wanted. Spoiled little tart.” He pulled his pants on slowly before Jolene handed him his shirt. He spotted his 'bridle' half buried in the hay and hastily shoved them out of sight in his pocket.

 

Jolene kept up her tirade all the way to the home he shared with the other unwanted who had no where to go. “She's a royal pain in my ass is what she is. Someone should have taught her to stay away from places she wasn't wanted.”

 

She had wanted his rage. She had wanted him wild and free and suddenly he could no longer keep it all down. Not when he had a taste of letting it go. “You are the only one who is where you were not wanted. She knew nothing of me. She wanted me without knowing. She gave no order to follow. I went because I wished to go. You know NOTHING of not being wanted. They look at you and your beauty and they fall over themselves to possess you. She wanted me. She wanted me and you have destroyed it. I will never forgive you this. Go away. Go to your children. Go to the home you had with the man who loved you. This is were we go when no one wants us. You do not belong. Get out.” He slammed the door on her face. This morning he had one friend. Tonight it was one too many.

 

* * *

 

“Anya?” Tomas knocked softly at her door. Hours ago they had come back from the memorial to find her curled up asleep around Power's boy in an unclaimed stall. The pair had looked well loved and for the first time her was ready to let her go. He hadn't thought about it as holding her back until that moment. Ten minutes ago Anya had come into the house looking just as stricken as the day she had lost Zeus and had immediately locked herself in her room.

 

No answer came and he pushed into the room to find her sitting staring out the window mindless. He moved to sit at her feet and lay his head in her lap. “You looked happy for a minute there. Did it not turn out the way you thought it would?”

 

She didn't answer for a moment and he was afraid she never would. She didn't even turn to him when she finally spoke. “Am I really a spoiled little princess who just expects everyone to do as she says?”

 

Tomas could not have found a worse description for the sweet self sacrificing woman he knew. She was always so careful to create an opening that was neither invitation nor order. Never had he felt pressured even when he worked for her family. She kept a constant dialogue that most riders ignored in favor of treating you like a dumb beast. She was so careful and considerate never pushing past his boundaries. “No, never. Princess? Yes, I don't think you will ever lose the bearing and you can no more stop being a Princess than you can stop being a woman.”

 

“I had no idea that he wouldn't say no. That he would just follow. I thought, I thought he wanted me. I thought... God dammit I swear to god it felt like the sun had come out for the first time in over a year.” She slid from the chair and collapsed into his arms giving over to a good old fashioned ugly cry. He had only ever seen her do it once before. The day they took Zeus off.

 

* * *

 

Tomas had finally coaxed her into bed and gotten her to sleep. The plane out was leaving in a few hours and she needed at least a little rest before she got on it. She wasn't his Princess here, she was no longer his employer or his mistresses, but she was still his friend. He stormed from the house in a rage. One way or another he was going to go give Power's Boy a piece of his mind.

 

It took the better part of an hour to walk to the Home and another half an hour to realize the Boy wasn't there. He finally found him as the sun was creeping up over the horizon sitting in the sprawling gardens that the unwanted tended to provide fresh flowers to the whole of the Community. “You, Boy! I want a word with you.”

 

He had never thought much of the man one way or the other and in all his years he had never once thought to be afraid of him. That was until he stood to his full rather impressive height and glared down at him. “Apollo.”

 

Tomas drew up short. “What?” Startled he froze in his tracks.

 

“My name, is Apollo. Not Boy. I will never be his boy again. I have been given another name. She does not need to wish to keep me but I will keep the name she has given.” He turned to watch the sun rise and Tomas could see the tear stains streaking his cheeks. He had heard so many stories about the giant of a man. The pain he could withstand, the things that he would let them do. He had heard whispers of the sorts of absolute depravity he would withstand without a cry of protest taking it all and asking for more. He was inhuman and never once had Tomas thought there was a man beneath it all able to cry. “I have sent my oldest friend away. There is no one left to want me now. I have nothing. Ask. What do a man with nothing have to lose before you speak.”

 

Anya had given him that name. Zeus had been named on a whim when she said his hoof beats sounded like thunder. He had been named Hermes, god of messengers for being the one to tell her of the life she had embraced. _It felt like the sun had come out._ Her words echoed back at him. She had given him the name Apollo. A scrap of black lace was wrapped tightly around his right hand.

 

“The plane leaves in one hour.” It had been said more to himself than to Tomas and he realised the man had sat there counting the minutes. Now more than ever he needed answers because somehow he felt he had not gotten the whole story.

 

“What happened? Princess Anya would never have done the things you accused her of. Why? Why would you say such things to her?” Had the man truly grown to hate himself so much he had to push her away so cruelly.

 

“Jolene Blackstone happened. She told the Mistresses what I was. Where I had been and now she does not want me. She was the first to truly want me and not my pain. Now we both see. Pain is all I am for.”

 

Anya wouldn't have cared where he had been. She had thought he had only come along because he had not felt it was within his power to decline. Worst of all she still wanted him. They were caught believing that the other wanted nothing to do with them. “She thought, she thinks you didn't want to be there with her. That you only came along because you were told to. She's not from this world. She only came with me so I could say goodbye to Master Blackstone. Where we're from she's a Princess. She knows the power of an order and she's so very careful. Do you, do you still want to be hers? If you could choose would you choose her?”

 

He watched emotions flicker across the other mans face one after the next. “I could not stain her with my presence. Not a princess. I will only be a shame on her. This is best. That she will forget me. She will find a good horse. One who knows the things I do not. She will find one who will not shame her.”

 

“WHAT!” He startled himself when it came out in a shout. Along with the birds nesting in the bushes and the giant of a man counting the minutes until Anya left. “You are out of your mind if you think she's going to just pick someone off the street and be happy. What we had was barely enough because we were all we had. We were two square pegs in a world full of round holes. She knew nothing of our lives a year ago. She's had noting but dreams of finding something to rival a half wild Andalusian. She has never been interested in being ashamed of who she was or what she wanted. If she wanted you I guarantee you are going to be a damn tough act to follow. We've been here two months and nothing has caught her eye. Two hours ago I found out she was going to leave without me this morning to force me to let her go so I would be happy. She'll throw herself on a pyre if it would make someone she cared about happy and if you both do it you're just going to be two assholes burning to death instead of being together because your stubborn as that horse that didn't like anyone but her! If you don't get your ass up right the hell now she's going to leave and you will both be miserable. Or you could come with me and you can tell her that you DO want to be her mount and you can see if she feels the same. Don't you owe it to the both of yourselves to let her make her own choices you great OAF!”

 

Tomas saw the fire flash in Apollo's eyes and knew what she had seen in him. As one they turned and began to run for the airstrip. Hopefully they weren't too late.

 

* * *

 

They broke past the edge of the trees having forgone the paths and roads for a faster more direct route. Tomas sides were heaving and he could barely catch his breath even as the newly christened Apollo acted as if he had just casually strolled there. The airstrip was empty. The plane was gone.

 

“You know you have a really shit sense of how long it takes to get around in one of these things.” The familiar voice echoed up from the road as the Pony Cart carrying Peter and Anya came into view.

 

“Yes but it was worth the experience. Every good horse master needs to drive a Pony Cart at least once. Besides we have two beautiful mares who got a chance to show off for you.” Peter was all smiles and jokes and Tomas thought his heart would burst in his chest. He knew now why he loved the man. Peter had known what he was doing and when they hadn't returned he had intentionally bought them more time. He had forced her to miss her flight out.

 

Apollo crossed the tarmac with quick strides coming to settle beside the stopped cart on his knees head bowed. Anya pushed from the cart and began tugging him up. “You're going to ruin those pants. Those are really nice pants. What are you doing here? No one asked you to come. You don't need to do this.”

 

Apollo pushed back into her refusing to stand rubbing his head into her stomach nuzzling against her.

 

“Please, oh my sweet boy please you're making this so hard.” Her voice cracked strained with the tears that were threatening again.

 

“If it pleases you Mistresses I would still like to learn. It...” Tomas could hear him falter struggling with the words. “It would please me to be your mount. I will do my best not to shame you. I will learn all that you will teach me but please so long as you want me let me serve you.”

 

Anya was in tears again, but this time they were tears of joy. She cupped his face and lifted his head to kiss her. Tomas watched his most beloved friend and wondered if that was what it looked like, the moment when two people fell in love. From behind him he could hear Peter doing the single most annoying thing that the man ever did. Quoting movie lines. “Since the invention of the kiss, there have been five kisses rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”

 

“Shut up. Can't you see two people are trying to say they love each other.” Tomas glared at him.

 

Peter stepped over and wrapped his arms around him. “Is that what that is? I thought it went a bit more like this.”

 

Apollo decided in that moment that words were stupid silly useless things. People should always say I love you with kisses. So he kissed her again.

 


	2. The first step in a journey of a thousand miles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I love these assholes so much...

Behind them, the girls began to get antsy, shaking their heads and pawing at the ground. 

“Oh Peter, why don't you ride back with Tomas? He's looking like he ran a mile.”

“It was almost two, thank you. I can do one without getting winded.” Tomas tossed back. 

“All the same, we will return at a slower pace. It is best he learns now how much I do like to walk.”

Tomas looked to the newly named Apollo. 

“She’s not kidding. Hours and hours and hours and ow!” 

Tomas had the decency to look sorry after Master Peter’s riding crop came down across his ass. Apollo hid his grin in the Mistress’s side.

There were a few minutes of shuffling where Anja swapped her heeled shoes for a pair of boots and before they left, Master Peter tossed her a riding crop. 

“Just in case, for funsies.” 

The Mistress laughed and it was so pure and so perfect, he found himself smiling too. 

He stood only when she bid him to and walked silently beside her. It all felt like a dream, almost too good to be true. If it was, he didn't want it to end.

“Apollo?”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Are you sure about this? Are you sure this is what you want?”

Perhaps it was too good to be true.

“I understand if you're having second thoughts. I’m not a slave to inspire pride, Mistress.”

The riding crop came down hard against his thigh, and she didn't even slow her step.

“You do not get to speak like that about my Apollo. I asked how you felt, not for your opinions on what I should feel. Lady Blackstone made a few fine points in her otherwise unwarranted tirade last night. You’ve never done this before, it's not what you were trained for, so, before this goes any farther, I would like your thoughts.”

He turned it over in his head. It wasn't his particular kind of submission, but it wasn't bad.

“It pleases me to please you. I enjoyed my time as your mount.”

“I'm not accustomed to the way things go here. I will do things my way.”

“I understand.”

“I have duties that will call me away for weeks or months at a time. Will that bother you?”

“No, Mistress.”

They walked through the woods talking. She asked no less than a thousand questions. Some about his past, some about the future. She asked about his friends and his hobbies. She asked about his sexual preference and posed hypotheticals. She accepted any answer he gave without question, even when he was sure she wouldn't like the answers.

There was only one thing that she wouldn't accept.

“I never learned, Mistress. It's a waste of time to invest in something like me.”

Crack.

His thigh was starting to ache, she struck the same square of skin again and with unerring accuracy. 

She stopped and turned to face him.

“Whose words are those, Apollo?”

“I’m sorry, Mistress?”

“Whose words? They aren't yours. Among many other things, I am a diplomat. I know when someone is repeating something they have repeated enough or heard enough it becomes rote. So tell me. Whose words are those? Think for me. Who told you that you were worthless?”

“What are you, boy?”

“Nothing, Sir. This boy is nothing.”

She began to unbutton his shirt.

“Who told you such lies about yourself?”

“You’re pathetic. I don't know why I waste my time with you.”

His shirt was pushed back off his shoulders, and she twisted it around, pulling his elbows together behind his back.

“Someone has been lying to you.”

“I would send you back, but what would you be without a cock in your ass? Less than nothing then, because you wouldn't even be a hole to be filled anymore. You are so very lucky that I am so generous as to forgive you.”

She pulled him free of his pants. Her hand moving slowly over him.

“I want you to keep from spilling until I say. Kneel please.”

He shifted his feet farther apart and lowered to his knees. These were tasks he knew by rote. This was his place. This was all he was good for.

She stepped behind him and reached her arms around stroking slowly over his chest, down his abs. She explored him with her hands, only touching him enough to keep him fully hard and at attention.

“Mein Gott, you are so perfect. It truly feels as if you were carved from the fabric of my fantasy.”

Her words went directly to his cock, and he could feel it jump in response. 

“In the beginning, I dreamt of a man with the bearing of the nobles I called my equals. The sort of men I was supposed to find appealing were lovely creatures until they began to talk. I dreamt of power and fire and a wild, willful mount who challenged me. But my mount was gentle and sweet. It is not his fault, it was simply who he was.”

She tugged at his nipples until they came to full attention.

“Have you been pierced? I think you would be lovely pierced.”

“Yes, Mistress. In a few places.”

“Mmm, shall we go get you some this afternoon? It would be lovely to see you in them.”

“If it pleases you, Mistress.”

“It would.”

She takes him in her hands, stroking him firmly. 

“I think you are the most beautiful thing alive,” she whispers into his ear and his cock jumps in her hands. He finds himself fighting to push down the desire, lest he spill too soon.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“No need to thank me for telling the truth. It is something we both deserve. Honesty is the only thing I will accept. I do not tolerate lies, and I will not tell you any. You will always give me the truth, and I expect to always receive it in return. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Now tell me, what binds you?” 

He answered without thought. It seemed easy enough.

“A shirt, Mistress.”

She lets him go suddenly, letting his cock bob in the air.

“You know, I always laughed when people said someone was hung like a horse. I’ve known too many horses. But if they had your cock,” she grasps him again, giving him a few quick strokes before dropping him again, “then they might have had something to be proud of. If you're a very good boy, I will let you fuck me with it. If you're a very bad boy, I'm going to fuck you instead.”

She nipped his ear, and he felt precum begin to leak from his tip. He watched as she dropped the shirt in front of him. He hadn't even noticed when she removed it.

“Now, what binds you?” 

Experimentally he flexed the muscles in his arms, feeling for any pull that might give away the answer. She hadn't re-secured him.

“Nothing, Mistress. You did not bind me.”

She walked slowly in front of him again and came to her own knees before him, dipping down and licking the head of his cock clean, swirling her tongue just under the edge of his foreskin. 

“Then why do you kneel? Why are your hands behind your back? Why, despite how very much you would like to, do you not cum? If there is nothing binding you, why do you hold back?” She inches her skirt up until he can see her bare pussy. Her fingers slip between her own legs coming away slick with wet. 

“I know you want to fuck me. You know I want you to fuck me. So why do you hold?”

It’s becoming harder to riddle out her meaning while he fights the desire to cum.

“You told me to wait.”

It’s the only answer he can think of. It's the truth. She didn't tell him to move, and it pleases her for him to wait.

“I did, and you chose to obey. Nothing holds you but your choices. There is no chain as powerful as your choice. There is no world where the lies that fall from your lips are as powerful and pleasing as the choice to give yourself to me like this.”

She circles behind again and pulls backwards on his shoulders. He leans back into the silent command.

“Grab your ankles, Apollo, and arch your back. You can rest your elbows on the ground if it makes you more stable.”

With his pants still around his knees he can only open his legs so far, and he ends arched back, the blood rushing to his head. She stretches out on the forest floor beside him, leaves crunching beneath her. 

“You are so beautiful like this. I think we will see about ways to display you so that I can look at you for hours on end.”

Her touch against him is feather light and he wishes for something firmer. He knows how to deal with the building need under a firm touch, but in her feather light caress, he is losing the battle.

“Who told you those lies?”

“My Master.”

“You have no master. I do not share my toys. You are mine and mine alone. Try again.”

“Master Powers, Mistress.”

Feather touches had him harder than he can ever remember being and the blood pooling in his head conspired to leave him struggling to sort out his thoughts.

“What is his first name?”

“Augustus, Mistress.”

Her hands were stroking up the arch of his body now, and beneath her touch he felt alive and beautiful.

“Say Augustus told me those lies.”

“Augustus told me those lies, Mistress.”

“Now say I am beautiful.”

“I am beautiful, Mistress.”

“I am powerful.”

“I am powerful, Mistress.”

“I am worth all that my Mistress will give me and more.”

“I am worth all… ahhhhh,” he chokes on a sob as he loses the fight not to cum. She wasn't even touching him.

“You are so perfect.”

“You are so perfect, Mistress.” 

She laughed, but it wasn't mocking, it was genuine and tumbled over him like music. “Lay flat, mein schatz.”

He is all too happy to comply. Even the effort to get stretched out feels like it takes an incredible amount of energy. He has spent hours on a rack that did not leave him quite so drained.

She curls close next to him and kisses his shoulder gently.

“You did not have to say that last part. I was talking about you.”

“You’re still perfect, Mistress.” 

She smiles and he wishes there was a way to bottle this moment so he never, ever forgets a single detail. 

They lay in the middle of the woods, silent save for the occasional tender whisper as he slowly regains his equilibrium.

“We will teach you all the things you missed and so, so many more.”

 

* * *

 

They wandered back toward the stables near lunch. Upon their arrival, Sheriff Matthews was waiting. 

His hands automatically clasped behind his back. The Sheriff always came for him at the end of a contract when it was time to go, except they had no contract. He had followed because there was an ache deep in his heart begging to be filled. Now, she stood between him and any who would take him away, as if she could stop them.

“Princess Anja, may I have a word with the boy?”

He stood head and shoulders over her, so it was a bit of a surprise when she stepped in front of him, her hand coming around to rest on his stomach behind her. 

“Go ahead. He's right here.”

The Sheriff gave a half smile. “Privately, if you don't mind.”

“I do mind. I don't know you. Now, you're welcome to speak to him here or fuck off. Those really are your only two options.”

He couldn't help but smile at her threats. 

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Sheriff Andy Matthews, and I need to speak to Power’s Boy for a minute. You're welcome to wait.” 

She turned slowly to face him, letting her hands run gently over the bare planes of his chest.

“Is he a liar?”

“No, Mistress. He is in charge of enforcing the rules. I believe Miss Pamela is looking for me. I missed breakfast at the house.”

“I didn't mean to get you in trouble. Do you want me to wait for you? We can go get lunch and visit The Shops I have heard so very much about.”

Honest answers, he tells himself even as he knows he shouldn't say yes.

“I would very much like for you to stay.”

She crooks her finger and he leans down.

“Remember, you are beautiful, wild, fierce and powerful. You are Apollo, god of the sun, and no man will ever take that from you.”

The words find a warm place in his heart, and he smiles. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Well, go talk to the nosy one. I’ll be right here.”

He and the Sheriff walked back to his car. They slid together into the backseat while a deputy waited in the front to drive them back. It was a position he was familiar with. One of the Community officials would come find him when a short-term contract had run out and those ‘keeping him’ failed to renegotiate or return him home. 

The line of questions was familiar too.

“Do you need the Doctor?”

“No, sir.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

“The funeral dinner, sir.”

“Is there anything we need to add to your file?”

“Change the name, sir.”

“I'm sorry?”

“I want the name changed. My Mistress has given me the name Apollo.”

“I like it. You’ve got your shirt off, that's new too.”

There was a moment where he became self conscious, but instead of the old familiar litany of  worthless, ugly thing  filling his thoughts, he heard her voice. His eyes found her watching and waiting as promised as her words purred in his ear… beautiful, wild, fierce and powerful.

“My Mistress likes to touch, Sir.”

“You’re hesitating before you answer. Is everything alright?”

He finds her words again echoing in his mind.

“The only right answer is the truth. I don't know the truth by heart, sir.”

“I need you to look at me now.” 

He turns from the window, even as some part of him cries that she will surely vanish once out of his sight

“You need to understand that even outside of our life here, she is very new to this. She has only known Tomas, and it has only been two years. This could go badly for you if she isn't ready to commit to this responsibility.”

“I have had sixty-three different Masters and Mistresses. Some for days, some hours. One for two and a half years. I have been taught so very much. Today, the girl who knows so little has taught me two things. First, that I am worth more than I have been told.”

“True. And the second?”

“The second is that the only bonds that hold me are the ones I allow. And I don't want to be here with you.”

He stepped out of the car his heart pounding. He wasn't dismissed, and walking away was as close as he has ever come to being willfully disobedient.

In the end, he is rewarded as his Mistress walks halfway out to meet him and takes his hand in her own, tugging him down for a quick kiss before pulling him back toward the house.

 

* * *

 

 

“Did he just tell me to fuck off?”

Michael Blackstone tilted the deputy’s cap back up.

“He did.”

“I don't care for it.”

Michael had known the boy his whole life. He was overly serious, and his father claimed something had broken in him beyond repair a very long time ago. Studying with Jakob, he had seen the boy come back with burns, cuts, deep bruises, and more than a few cracked or broken bones. He was so eager to please, he would suffer everything heaped upon him and ask for more.

“I think we should make sure she's fully committed. I don't think he'll recover if she puts him aside for another. If she strings that one along, I'm blacklisting her.”

“You’re really going to do it aren't you? You're going to put them first.”

“I almost didn't come back here at all. I was willing to let Evie run it right into the ground. I was out and there was nothing for me here except a life I despised. Then my Mother told me I was a monster if I let it fall apart because I didn't like the way my father handled things. They have nowhere to go. Can you imagine him trying to pour coffee or mop floors? How many of them won't make it that far? We broke them. Now, we have to take care of them.”

 

* * *

 

 

The trip into the central community had gone without issue, until he faltered in the doorway to the diner.Does she wish him to stay or follow?

He had been to the diner on a quite a few occasions. Mostly to pick up the leftovers to fill out the house fridge, occasionally to take a delivery when he was working as support staff. Never, in all that time, has he eaten inside.

His Mistress stops and steps back outside with him.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Apollo.” There was a warning in her tone, and he knew she wanted a real answer.

“I’ve never eaten here, I’m not-”  no, that's a lie,  “-no one has ever wished to have me in public.”

“You are beautiful, wild, fierce and powerful. You are the sun it self. You can not be held at fault when others fear that power and lock it away. What binds you?”

“My choice to please you, Mistress.”

“It would please me for you to follow me to lunch. Heel.”

He falls into step behind her. He thought it would be as simple as making the choice, but his dread doesn't dissipate. He waits for someone to challenge his presence, to tell her that he doesn't belong here or to challenge her possession.

She picks a table and pauses, turning to him.

“You may get my chair. No matter where we are, I expect you to keep your manners.”

He pulled it out and when she sat, pushed her back in. She pointed to the floor beside her, and he tugged the kneeling pad out from under the table taking his place. 

He had barely gotten settled when she reached over, stroking the back of his head and down his neck. Sweet, gentle touches that made him melt. Soon, he was so relaxed he didn't even hear the waitstaff approach. 

“And what can I get you?”

He looked up at the familiar voice and found Isabelle in full bunny gear, smiling happily. 

“I will take the herb roasted chicken, a plate of the samosas, and the finger food platter please.”

“What to drink?”

His Mistress turned to him. “I didn't ask earlier, do you drink alcohol?”

“I have no objections, Mistress.”

Behind them, Isabelle gives him a quick thumbs up and flashes him a smile. Both of which are quickly hidden when his Mistress turns back. 

“I'll take a pitcher of water, a hard cider and a bottle of white. Let the Chef pair please.”

“Yes, Mistress.” She bobs a tiny curtsy and hurries on. 

Slowly, he relaxes as they wait for their meal. Two more times he sees someone staring, both times they are other subs who have stayed at the home. Both times they seem happy for him. 

The food arrives and she holds down a triangle shaped pastry.

“Bite.” 

She feeds him like this between bites of her own food. The bottle of cider is lifted to his lips and he drinks. 

She holds a one-sided conversation about her plans for the next few days. 

“I'll have to take you to the tailor for a proper fitting. Henri had a fit when Gregori sent him a set of measurements and asked for a suit. Now, he won't even take the boy’s call. We should be able to get most other things in The Shops, but you really do need two good suits. I really should call Papa.”

It was a stream of consciousness that rambled from one topic to the next that needed no input from him. He lost himself in the gentle cadence of her voice and the rhythm of being fed and before he knew it, the plates were clear and she just sat sipping her wine watching him in silence.

“You are so very beautiful.” 

He has never felt beautiful before her. Now, he has begun to believe it.

 

* * *

 

 

The Shops are housed in an apartment building. The whole thing is owned by one of the Littles whose Daddy runs the place. Each apartment is a small, self-contained world. He knows a few of them well. Second floor, in the back, on the right is where the equipment is. Crosses, swings, wheels and other large items. Top floor, front left is where they do the fittings for the cuffs and harnesses. First floor, in the back, is the more traditional adult toy store. 

“Guten tag!”

Daniel comes to the front. 

“Good afternoon. What can I help you with today?”

“I was told this was the best place in the world to get my pony tack and tail. Ja?”

Her accent becomes more pronounced when she talks to strangers. It makes her real voice feel like a secret they share.

“Uh, yes. This is where we do that. Now, I have some in stock, or we can have some made. You just need to bring the pony by.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, is my English maybe. We dress this pony, ja?”

“Power’s boy?”

He doesn't blame the man for his surprise. Ponyboy is hardly the first thing that comes to mind when they look at him.

She sighs deeply, “He’s name is Apollo now. Do we have paper? Maybe I put out full-page ad.”

“Sorry, Madame. Right this way.”

They're ushered back into a room that smells strongly of leather. She walks to a long horizontal pole on the wall and takes his hand, resting it there. She crooks her finger and he leans down.

“You’re smiling,” she whispers.

“I am happy, Mistress. You're smiling too.”

“So I am.”

She cups his cheeks and kisses him gently. 

“Be a good boy.”

She slaps his thigh and steps away to join Daniel at the table with the catalogues. 

“We have cuffs you can use if you prefer. You don't have to leave him untied while we do this.”

“Why? Do we think he will go running into the wood? He will hold because I ask him to.”

She is meticulous about what she wants, catalogues are exchanged for sketchbooks. Soon, the lack of cuffs becomes a problem. He's bored and without thinking, he lets go of the rail.

“Apollo.”

His hand goes back immediately to its place, and she goes back to speaking to Daniel. There used to be games he could play to occupy his mind while left bound to wait. He could doze off, or name every bird he could think of, only this time, there was nothing to catch him from falling out of place. He jumps when she touches him. 

“You look very angry with that post.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.” He feels like he's failing her. She put so much faith and trust in him to do a simple, little thing, and he failed. 

“Come now, we clean you up, then get you fitted.”

She guides him back into the bathroom and to the showers. “Hands and knees.” 

The shift is small enough he can believe he's imagining it, there's something missing in her tone and she touches him less. Her hands don't linger, she nudges him where she would like him to be and that's it. She rinses him down quickly with the shower head and never says a word.

When she strokes his ass, he holds perfectly still, afraid of losing her touch once more. 

She kneads the globes of his ass, and her thumb slips between to press at his hole.

“You are so beautiful.” 

He doesn't feel beautiful. He feels like he failed her. He knew eventually this would end, sooner rather than later, he just didn't want it to end just yet. A few more hours, another night with a warm body wrapped around him. He wanted to walk for her again. To make her smile.

“Is there something you should tell me?”

“I'm sorry, Mistress.”

“What are you sorry for, Apollo?” 

Her thumb slips into his hole, and sets a slow, gentle motion in and out, coaxing him open.

“I am sorry I failed you, Mistress. I am sorry I moved from where you asked me to stay.” 

Her thumb is gone, quickly replaced by the shower hose. She moves one hand to his stomach and just a moment after he is uncomfortably full, she stops the flow.

“Thank you for that. Is there anything else you should tell me?”

He’s having a hard time putting thoughts together. Her hand on his belly pushes and rolls, making the water slosh and shift inside of him. The cider has gone to his head and softened the sharp edges. He’s hard again and if she would just give him permission he would spill right here. 

“I came without permission this morning, Mistress.”

“So you did, but that was my intent. I wanted to know how far your control could reach, but we found your particular kink and was not a fair test. We try again another time. Anything else?”

“Please, may I cum, Mistress?”

“Not yet.”

She cups and lifts his balls, stroking them gently.

“You are full and ready aren't you?” She rolls them in her hands. 

“Alright, empty, do not cum.”

He shifts back over the drain and lets go. She guides him forward again, and they repeat the process, this time with just a bit more water and the throbbing of his cock can be ignored for the cramping in his guts. 

Once again, her hands are on his stomach, pushing it around.

“Is there anything else you should tell me?”

“No, Mistress.”

“This is my favorite part of dressing. You are like a colt, wet and unsteady. Alright, empty.”

Once again, he squats and empties, and once again, she fills him even more than the time before. It takes every ounce of control to hold still. He knows from experience he can do this, he knows he can hold more. But here under her hands, with the Mistress he chooses, everything is more intense. 

This time when he empties, she doesn't guide him forward. She places gentle kisses on his eyelids and pulls out a blindfold.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“May I?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

And with that, the world is cast into darkness. 

She takes his arm and guides him to stand. They enter the main room of the tack shop, and he wishes he had paid more attention, because she walks him around a bit and he loses his bearings a little before she takes him up a step and tells him to hold.

There's a jingle of metal as she begins with the chest harness, strapping him in. It's a fairly simple rig and it only takes a moment, fingerless gloves are slid over his hands. Cuffs are strapped on over them that extend to his elbows in a series of straps instead of a solid piece. Individual belts encircle his biceps that don't attach to anything else. He’s guided to lean forward against a bar like the one from before, but this time, it's lower and she holds his harness at the waist, forcing him to bend. 

Even without his sight, she maintains a constant contact that tells him where she is at all times. He should be nervous, to a large extent, she is an unknown Mistress and he has no sight, except he meant it when he told her he trusted her. 

She's behind him again, her hands kneading his cheeks and he shifts his legs apart. Her fingers press in, spreading slick around his hole. He has to push down the sudden need to cum and in the process, clamps down on her fingers.

“Breathe in, two, three. Hold, two three. Out, two, three.”

He breathes as she counts and soon, he relaxes once more. 

“Mmm, it's okay, it's okay, such a good boy. Every pony gets a little skittish with their first tack.” 

Her fingers slide in and out slowly, working to scissor him open. 

“I remember the first time they tried to saddle Zeus. The stable master went behind my back, afraid of his reaction and tried to get the hands to take care of it. My Zeus took one look at them and knew something was wrong. He was so upset, he kicked out the back wall and into the stall behind him.”

The plug presses gently against him as she talks.

“Someone had the bright idea to toss it onto his back from the next stall and wait for him to calm down. Well, ten minutes later, he was proving he was only getting started. Tomas, bless his soul, ran for the house to get me, and when they wouldn't let him in, he climbed the trellis and came in through the window. He interrupted my piano lessons and got promoted. I will never leave you to go through a scary thing by yourself.”

The pressure had been slowly increasing and suddenly it slides all the way home as the widest part of the plug pushes past his hole. It settles comfortably in place. 

“All you have to do is send me the message and I'll come. No matter what, I will come.”

She presses kisses to his back, between the straps, all the way down until she's crouched behind him. 

She sets the flat of a small paddle against his ass. 

No, not a paddle, a brush. She’s brushing out his tail, and the gentle pull from each sweep of the brush makes the plug in his ass bob up against his prostate. He can't remember a time he’s been more turned on. He so badly wants to cum, even more he wants to make her proud.

“Such a pretty pony. Aren't I such a lucky girl to have such a beautiful pony?” She lifts his right leg up back behind him, catching it between her knees and holding it in place.

“Can you hand me that?”

He assumes she's speaking to Daniel, because he's in no position to do anything in this position. She slides a sock over his foot, followed by a boot that laces to his mid-calf. It holds his ankle in a firmly fixed position and feels strange. When she releases his leg, he discovers why. The boot is weighted and has a decent heel on it. The process is repeated with his other leg and when it's done, she comes back near the front and hugs his head to her chest, stroking his neck and shoulders.

“Such a beautiful boy. My beautiful stallion. Such a good, beautiful boy.”

He hadn't realized how tense he had become until it starts to bleed out of his frame. Gentle hands rub the tension out, slipping under the straps. She lifts his hand to step between his arms, and it's a gentle reminder despite the increasing feeling of being bound, he is essentially free. He chooses this. He chooses her. No matter how strange and new and confusing it is, he has the ability to walk away at any second, and with that, he lets go of the last of his fears.

“There you go. Who's my sweet boy? Mein Stundenchen.”

She takes him by the wrists and slowly guides him to stand.

His wrists are brought to his chest and attached to his harness with a quick metallic snap. Two more and his forearms are attached to his biceps. Her hands slide down his sides as she crouches in front of him and begins the lower half. A belt goes around his waist, attached to his chest harness, and at first, he thinks there's an attached codpiece, except his shaft is lifted over the top. She pulls it up behind him by two straps that buckle into his chest harness, flanking his tail. She stands behind him, leaning into him as she slides her hands around his waist and over the bulge of his contained sack, and he learns just how thin the patch of leather is there. 

“I love the way this looks on you. We can take this bit out if we need to, but I think it's more comfortable if things aren't in danger of getting snagged. We’re almost done, just a few more.”

More straps run down the outside of his legs, buckling at regular intervals. He's nervous and excited, a flurry of mixed emotions bursting to life in his chest.

She pulls him down by the straps on his chest and kisses him gently, coaxing his mouth open. He can taste the wine on her lips as she kisses him and demands to be kissed in return. Happily, he complies.

When she's had her fill, or perhaps it's only when she runs out of breath, she releases him. A strap circles his forehead and another hangs to either side of his face.

“Open.” 

Two fingers are slid into his mouth, pressing his tongue down and keeping his jaw open when a leather wrapped bar is pressed between his teeth, a rubber tab keeps his tongue in place. She secures it with the straps at his cheeks and another that circles behind his head. 

He is blind and bound in a strange manner, in a place he isn't familiar with, and he feels utterly and completely safe. He knows in this moment, beyond anything else, that if she doesn't keep him, he will never kneel to another. 

He hadn't understood when Jolene said there would never be another after Alex. One master was as good as another in his experience, until now. There was a rush of adrenaline in his submission. It was living on an edge of fear and danger, and the calm always came long after, when he was safely in his own bed, secure that he was still alive.

With Anja it was something completely new. He was all at once climbing higher and safely grounded. In the center of the storm, he was safe. 

“Are you ready?”

He nods and she unties the blindfold pulling it away. He had seen his fair share of ponies, most in latex and leather, a few in harnesses. Black was the color of choice with a few brown. 

He was gold. 

Mirrors are arranged in a circle around them, reflecting his own image back again and again. Everywhere he looked, gold straps stood against his darker skin, the metal buckles and clips black. His tail reaches his ankles, and the black boots look like hooves. 

Anja stands to one side, grinning wider than he thinks he's ever seen. She holds half a glass of wine in her hand as she circles him slowly. 

“I really have outdone myself.” She steps up beside him and reaches for his cock.

“You've been fit to burst for near half an hour. Are you ready to cum?”

His words are an unintelligible mess with the tongue press in place.

“Ponies shake or stomp. You can shake or nod your head or stomp once for yes, twice for no.” 

He nods. Yes, god yes. He needs to cum more than he needs to breathe. 

She takes him in hand with firm steady strokes. 

“Go ahead, mein schatz.” 

He spills and she catches it in the half empty wine glass. She swirls it in her hand until the two mix readily together. 

Her fingers are quick and nimble as she unsnaps one side of his bit and pulls it free. 

“Drink.” 

The wine glass is pressed to his lips and he drinks the mixture before his bit is fixed back in place. This time, she does it slowly, keeping her hands mostly clear so he can watch.

She picks up a final triangle of black leather and snaps it into place over his crotch before laces are strung over and pulled tight.

“Wrapped up all nice like a little present I made myself.”

Reins are clipped to either side of his bit and she coaxes him forward. 

“Come on,” he takes the first unsure step in the unfamiliar boots, “that's my good boy!”

Her praise is genuine and she seems so pleased, even with that tiny progress, he continues. He steps down carefully, grateful both for the sturdy nature of the boots and her hand on his arm. 

She leads him by the reins out between the mirrors, and he stops.

Peter and Tomas are there waiting. At least he’s not the only one in full tack.

“Oh god, Anja, he's beautiful.” 

“Did you doubt me?”

She strokes the bare skin of his arm and back almost absently, maintaining a constant contact that is the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Never again.” 

Peter rests his hand gently on the back of Tomas’ neck. Tomas, in turn, butts his head into his master’s shoulder.

“Thank you for coming out. I’m just the slightest bit afraid my Apollo is going to start thinking I'm biased, or worse, just flattering him.”

Peter laughs.

“Soon, you won't need to worry. The two of you are going to get an incredible amount of attention. The gold plays so beautifully off his skin.”

Peter reaches forward, but before he can make contact Anja has caught his hand. 

“Touch him and I break it old man. I gave up Hermes because it was what he wanted, but make no mistake, what is mine is mine alone.”

Peter's eyebrows shoot up.

“My apologies, Princess.” 

“I accept. Now, let's go home.”

 

* * *

 

Peter’s prediction is spot on. In this small town, very little is cause for undue attention, but people stop dead in their tracks as they pass.

He doesn't know if the pair were invited simply for her vanity, or if she had foreseen his fears. In the end, he is simply grateful that another horse and rider walk beside them, so that with each new challenge they face, or command given, he has only to follow the example beside him. Watching Tomas, he learns to walk in the odd boots and how to respond to each tug at his reins. He dutifully mimics the other man, falling deeper into the place where his only concern is the next command and the pleasure of his Mistress.

When they reach the stable, he no longer cares what onlookers whisper as they pass. The attention pleases his Mistress and in that alone, he finds pride. 

Peter insists on a detour into the stables before they return to the house, and when they step in, one of the other masters leans against an open stall.

“Someone said you were staying and bringing in a new pony.”

“I am indeed.” 

“You can't do that without a stall to call your own.”

He steps back and swings the door shut.

He's not sure why his Mistress is crying. This time, they’re happy tears as she steps over, bringing him with. She runs her fingers over the freshly minted plate on the door.

“That's your name. They got us a name plate.”

“Technically,  I  got you two a nameplate, and cleaned the stall, and found you some fresh blankets. Credit where it's due and all. I just wanted to say thank you for speaking to Skittles the other day. We had a good talk. Things are, getting better.”

He can't take his eyes off the plate on the door.

‘APOLLO’ 

Reading and writing were always out of his reach, but over time, he has come to recognize the shape of some words. 

Now, he knows the shape of his name. He has a space here that is all his own, and he finally begins to believe that this might be long term.

When she guides him in, the floor gives slightly beneath the sweet hay that's been spread to cover it. She pulls down a blanket from a shelf on the back wall and lays it out.

“Down.” 

She keeps a firm steadying grip on his harness as he lowers to his knees. Once down, she reaches over and clips his thigh to his ankles on both sides. The reins are traded for leads attached to the sides of the stall. 

“Stay.”

She kisses him gently on the forehead.,

“I'll be right back.”

She steps out and shuts the door behind. Outside his stall, he can hear Peter and Tomas moving about getting settled. 

The peace of the moment settles deep into his bones, and he relaxes completely. Whatever comes next, he will be with his Mistress. He is bound only by his choice to stay, and he will stay as long as she will have him.

When the door to his stall opens, he can't hide his grin.

“Mein schatz. Mein studenchin.” 

She sets a stool down in front of him and sits before him, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“Today, you have been the best I can ask for. You are beautiful, wild, fierce and powerful. I am so lucky that you're here.” 

He turns into her touch.

“I have to take care of some things. But in the meantime, I want to show you this.” 

She gets off the stool and pulls a laptop from her bag setting it up.

“I have been riding in the traditional sense since I was a little girl. Zeus was my world, but he was… well, he was an asshole who tended to get banned from events.”

She spends some time pulling up files and clicking along. 

“This is me. This is where I fell in love with horses. I don't know how long I will be, but Peter is going to wait in the stable with you if you need anything.”

She kisses him again and turns the laptop toward him. Ear phones are brought out and put on him, drowning out the noise of the rest of the world.   

‘Alright folks, next up is Zeus being ridden by Anja Hapsberg.’

The horse is huge, and his mistress looks like a doll on top of it. He's a perfect black and she is dressed in white on top of him. The camera focused on the gate. 

‘Ivan, she's going to kill herself. ’ A woman one row up says.

If he wasn't watching from the future, he would have had the same fears. The great beast refuses to be still, shifting from foot to foot, pulling at his bit. 

‘Ivan, if you don't put a stop to this right now, I will.’ She’s half out of her seat when the signal comes, and Anja is off.   

‘Sit down, Maria. It's too late for all of that now.’  Ivan takes her arm and pulls her back into the seat. Anja has already cleared the first jump. He watches in rapt attention as she clears each jump at high speed. She crosses the finish line and the clock stops. The woman one row up jumps up again, this time clapping wildly. 

She was thirteen, he learns as she takes her ribbon for second place in the junior leagues.

Run after run,  he watches horse and rider grow. He gets lost in the rush of watching them race and jump. Zeus is only happy when he's running. He has no patience with anyone but his rider. She is the center of his world, and he is hers. This is the horse she speaks of so tenderly. Her wild thing whose loss opened a hole in her heart and soul that led her here to him.

When the video ends, he waits. Fifteen minutes pass before the door opens, and Tomas steps in. He’s back in street clothes and fishes a flash drive from his pocket. He inserts it and clicks around, pulling up the contents. 

‘Mein böser, Bub!’ His Mistress's voice comes through, as what is clearly security footage pops up. She’s leaning over the half-door into a stall with Zeus.

She pulls the door open and he pushes forward, planting his broad head in her chest. She wraps her arms around him, hugging him close, kissing the top of his head. 

‘Was geht ab?’ She walks a slow circle around him, checking him over. 

He's covered in mud, and he watches as Anja washes him clean and brushes him down. He demands her attention at every turn, and she lavishes him in sweet praises and affection. It's a carefully edited series of private moments between the two. Time before races when Zeus is too excited to stand still. Late nights when they sneak back into the stables exhausted. In the latest, Anja has come running in sobbing, her dress torn. A young man follows after in a similar disheveled state. He can't make out the foreign words as they scream over each other. He does see Zeus reach over his stall and unlatch his own door, pushing between the two to check on his rider. The boy’s mistake comes when he strikes the horse. The last thing he hears is the boy scream as Zeus kicks out and the laptop is shut. His Mistress pulls the drive out and looks at it before tucking it away and taking the headphones off again.

“There are many sides to having a horse. It's not all pomp and flash. Zeus had spirit. That's what I was trying to show you most of all.”

She unhooks the bit and pulls it out, kissing him gently.

Her hands roam exposed patches of skin, following the same pattern she used to brush down Zeus.

He wants this.

He wants the way she makes him feel proud and cherished as she pushes him beyond the things he knows. He wants the tender touches and the gentle tone of voice that she hides from strangers. He wants to be here waiting every time she comes back. He wants to be her mount, her companion, her slave. He wants to be hers. 

She unhooks the bridle first, setting it gently aside as she speaks softly. “It’s time for dinner. Let's get you out of your tack first.”

He nods, not ready to go back to speaking after so long in silence.

One piece at a time, she unbinds him. His left cuff, then his right, left leg, then the right. She's slow and meticulous, with a clear order and unlike his dressing where he was expected to actively participate, he is asked to do nothing more than lay back or roll slightly so she can reach a new strap. 

There are a hundred kisses all over his body and a thousand gentle touches that he finds himself leaning into. Each time, he is rewarded with the contact he so desperately desires.

She's reaching for the straps on his biceps when he finds his voice out of desperation.

“May I keep those? If it pleases you, that is.”

She smiles and he relaxes. 

“You can wear anything you're comfortable in. We’re having more traditional tack made to my specifications, but he told me he had a gold one and I just had to have it. You looked glorious.”

He blushes under the praise. 

“Thank you, Mistress.” 

“We’ll teach you to clean and care for it too. Tack can last generations if you take care of it properly. I have a saddle that belonged to my great grandfather back at the house in Spain.”

He likes hearing about her family and her world outside. It makes him feel connected to the world in a larger way.

“Are you ready to go in, or do you need a minute?”

He was ready to go to the ends of the earth if she only asked.

“I'm ready, Mistress.”

“Good. But first, pants.” She helps him pull them on and buttons them for him. They're new, brand new, he notes in surprise as she pulls the tags off of them. Barefoot and shirtless, they make their way back to the house where they walk in to a wall of noise. 

Before his Mistress, he had never been farther than the end of the driveway. People jokingly called them ‘the Herd’ because they seemed to have their own community within the community. They lived in a massive ranch style house instead of proper homes, and when they did come into the main areas, they tended to travel as a group. 

Looking at them now, it seems less teasing and simply an accurate description. 

The kitchen is packed with at least a dozen people, while more sit out in the communal front room. Different conversations are taking place, contributing to the din. 

“ANJA, YOU WANT CORNBREAD?” Tomas yells from the kitchens. 

“Do you like,” she waves toward the kitchen, “whatever that is.”

“Yes, Mistress.” 

“YES, PLEASE!” She yells back. 

She leads him to an oversized chair tucked away in a corner that cuts down on some of the noise. He's looking for the mats when she pushes him toward the chair. 

“Hold the seats please, Peter should be along in a minute.”

When he sits, she kisses him tenderly, her hands roaming his bare chest.

“Mmm, now I want to skip dinner and go right to dessert.” She catches a nipple between her fingers, rolling and pinching before switching to the other. She kisses him again and again as her hand slides down the front of his pants. He is clay in her hands, ready and willing to become whatever she makes him.

Behind her, someone clears their throat. 

“As much as I look forward to that particular show, you promised to brave the kitchen for drinks and someone just said something about Argentina in the same sentence as the World Cup.”

“Mist! I’m going, I'm going!” 

She hustles off and he’s left alone with Peter. He's not entirely sure who they are to each other.

“You did look lovely today. Anja has quite the eye for design.” 

“Thank you, Master.”

“Oh, none of that now.I don't think Anja will take too kindly to it. She has rules about what is hers. You may call me Peter.” 

“He’s not mine yet.” She sets the drinks on a low table between them. 

He's half up, ready to take his place at her feet when she places a hand on his chest, pushing him back. She sits in his lap, and Tomas arrived with two plates. Anja had just taken the one he offered her when Peter pulled him back by the belt and wrapped him in a hug. 

“What is this? It's very beige.”

“Chicken tetrazzini. Trigger made it.”

She handed Apollo the plate, and not knowing what to do with it, he just held it.

Peter led them in grace.

“We thank you for finding a place within this world we can call home, for bringing us here together, and for the road that led us to this moment. Amen.”

Anja laughed. “Ever so subtle.”

“Thank you.”

She fed him the first bite. It's strangely intimate, sharing a single plate and fork. She talks to Peter, and they fall into an easy conversation in another language and he becomes content to eat and listen to the sound of her voice. Her fingers stroke slowly down the back of his neck. He is at the same time cherished and ignored. 

Her attention is on Peter, engaged in whatever they are discussing, but her hand keeps a constant, gentle motion as she pets him. The fork is held out for him to take a bite, when she reaches for her glass, he is offered the straw, but she never turns to look at him. 

One of the younger boys comes around the corner and waits, not at attention, but leaning casually against the wall. Eventually, Peter turns to address the boy, and his Mistress turns her attention back to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Good, Mistress, thank you.”

She kisses his brow gently, “Was there anything you should tell me?”

“No, Mistress.”  

Something changes in her expression he can't define. Some tiny shift that he can't pin down because he would swear her face didn't move at all. He doesn't have much time to ponder it, because they're talking about him.

“So, we were wondering if Apollo wanted to come out to the field tonight?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” 

“Invitation’s open you know. For him, not you. No Riders in the field after sundown.”

She laughs at him and he grins. 

“Maybe tomorrow, we’ve got a few weeks still until it turns cold.”

He watches as the boy runs out to the porch with Tomas. Others join them until there's over twenty mounts. Then, as one, laughing and joking, they run for the back fields. 

The nature of the house is softer after they leave. He is not the only mount to stay behind. He watches one be invited into a card game with several of the masters. Several more are going about collecting dishes and taking them back to the kitchens.

“Are you happy?” She asks softly, staring out the nearby window after the group pulling tents and camping gear from the back of the barn.

“Yes, Mistress. More than I can ever remember being.”

“And you have nothing to tell me?” He’s almost sure he's forgetting something at this point. She's asked him that same question over and over.

“No, Mistress.”

“Alright, head back. I'm in room Three One Nine. Do you want me to write it down for you?” 

“No, Mistress I can find it.”

“It’s the second hall, on the right, all the way on the end, on the left. I’ll be back in a minute and we can talk.”

Her kisses are tender and gentle as she makes no move to get up just yet.

“You really are a beautiful, precious thing.” She whispers before she stands and heads back into the kitchen not even looking back to make sure he does as he's told. She trusts him to obey simply because she asked. But in the short time he has known her, she has earned that respect. She was with him at each step, never pushing but always gentle and patient. She made him want to rise to the things she asked of him. 

He walks through the main room. The girl playing poker with the Masters has won another hand, and she taunts them as she pulls her pot in.

“I should take you to Rio.”

“Can’t. I’m wanted in Rio.”

“Monaco?”

“Shoot on sight.”

“Vegas?” 

“I think I'm still allowed in a few places there.”

The table laughs, and she deals again.

He walks past a girl laid out, stripped naked while another sat on her back massaging. 

“You need to stop pushing so hard, you're still healing.”

“Mmm, but I get rubbies this way.”

“If you would slow down a little, you can still get rubbies and be ready to compete next year. If you have to take a year off, you're never going to make the Olympic team.”

In the corner, a mount sits bound in latex to the point he can't even tell their gender as their master sits behind, braiding their hair down the back of their head.

There is no right or wrong way to be here, and despite living with dozens of Masters, there is no expectation that you owe them anything. The halls are quiet as he makes his way back to her rooms. He opens the door and stops.

There, on a small table, is his file.

He would know it anywhere. 

It's at least three inches thick, and within its pages is every contract for his service, every report, every failure, every mistake. How many times has he sat listening to the list of his failures be committed to paper before he was sent off with the rest of the unwanted.

This is where she had gone during the hours he had been left alone. 

He feels her hands on his hips, and he wonders how long he’s stood frozen in the door.

“Mistress, I have something I should tell you.”

“I bet you do. Funny how that works once you've been caught. Go ahead and get comfortable, we need to talk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Save me from myself omg I dont know what I'm doing... so many stories need updates and I have no frickin idea when I will get to them...   
> Just say nice things to me before the pressure gives me a panic attack


	3. Finding his footing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's unlike anyone else he has ever known and in so many ways he loves that. In so many more it leaves him confused as to what she wants and expects. Her anger isn't well hidden, it simply comes out at the things he least expects.

* * *

He took a kneeling position on the mat beside the table, knees apart, sitting on his feet, hands behind his back. He fixes his gaze forward and waits.

She moves about the room behind him. He can hear the snap of cases opening and shutting.  He can hear the rustle of fabric. He can hear the chime of her phone followed by the rapid tapping of her reply. Never once does he hear the only thing he so desperately wants, any sort of instruction on what he can do to fix this.

When she finally walks into his view, she's changed out of her day clothes. She wears a light robe and her feet are bare. He wonders if she always looks like a goddess or are there moments she joins the rest of them as mortals.

She sits in the chair in front of him. 

“This is only going to go one of two ways. We’re either done or you're mine. That's it. Those are the only options.”

He felt like the floor had fallen out beneath him.

“Mistress, I-”

“I really don't care what you have to say now. Do you have any idea how I had to find out about this?” She motions at his file. “The shop boy asked if I wanted him to register your tack in your master file or if I wished to do it. Then I find out that there are contracts. Something we don't have. At any moment, they could have just come in and taken you. I don't even understand why you would hide that. I have tried to make it clear that I only wanted you here if this is where you wanted to be. Now, this is the most important thing I have ever asked you. Do you want this, do you want to be a Pony?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Thank you. Now, do you want me? Before you answer, you are welcome in the herd with or without me. The others will work with you. I'm sure if you continue as you have, it won't take long at all for someone else more to your liking to take you in.”

“No! I mean,” everything feels like it needs to be said at once. He stumbles in his words and the old echo of stupid, useless slut rises in the back of his mind.

She pulls him forward until his forehead presses into her knees.

“You are beautiful, wild, fierce, and powerful, but even still, you must breathe.” Her hands are gentle as she strokes over the back of his head.

Here, at her feet, he feels whole in a way he had forgotten he could. 

“Take your time. You're not going to hurt my feelings.” 

“I want to please you. More than anything, I want to please you.”

She lifts his head and waits silent and patient until he looks up to meet her eyes. She’s smiling.

“I can not remember ever wanting something so much as I want you. If you are happy, I am happy. You said you were happy, so why did you hide this from me?”

“Because you will finally see me for what I am. You will leave, and I will be on my own again.”

“Do you remember my Zeus? He was beautiful, he was a champion, he was almost sent to the slaughterhouse before he was weaned. David was carved from a block of marble that was already labeled flawed beyond use. Picasso only sold one painting in his entire life, and she bought it in pity. What do I care for their opinions? I know what you are worth. You are a David, a Starry Night, a Champion. You are also afraid. I need you to trust me even as I understand I need to earn that trust.”

He doesn't want to hope. He wants to stay firmly planted in pessimism. It's safer there, except somehow his heart has sprouted wings and is trying to take off.

“This is the contract I filed.”

She holds it out before him, it’s a single page. He sees the shape of his name listed twice, both times next to his identification number, but he doesn't recognize any other words in his quick glance. 

“It’s a temporary measure as an agreement between Mister Blackstone and myself. I am renting your time. I am paying the normal fees, because unlike some people, I’m not willing to risk everything on the chance that no one is going to do things the proper way and take you away in the meantime.”

It was something he hadn't even considered. Without a formal contract, he was Blackstone’s property.

“I’m having another drawn up,  both more permanent and binding, but you can't hide things from me. If you are mine, you will behave as such. You will give yourself completely. If you need something, I will take care of you.”

His skin is electric where she touches him. Her nails drag gently over the skin behind his ears, down his neck, across his shoulders and back again. 

Then, she has him by the earlobe, dragging his attention back to her face. 

“What did I just say?” she's smiling out one side of her mouth.

He wonders if he missed something, “You promised to take care of me?”

“Oh, my sweet boy, you’ve had a very big day haven't you? We can finish this in the morning. Do you remember what I told you this morning?”

“I am beautiful, wild, fierce, and powerful, Mistress.”

When her half smile blooms fully he is filled with pride. 

She leans down and kisses him.

“Very good, I am so proud of you. But I meant something else. I promised if you were a very good boy…”

“You would let me fuck you, Mistress.” His heart picks up at the thought.

“But you weren't, were you? You hid things from me to a point that bordered on outright lies. I’m not upset with you, I want to make that very clear. You were afraid, and that's something we’ll work on, but that doesn't make what you did any less wrong. Do you understand?”

“Ye-” he falters, he doesn't understand. He was wrong, he failed her, he lied.

“No, Mistress, I'm sorry.”

She leans down to kiss him deeply. He gives over to her and stops trying to think ahead of her. He kisses her back because she is kissing him. He leans back when she presses into him until he is nearly overbalanced backwards, but before he can begin to tip, she is straddling his hips, sitting on his thighs holding him in place. Her hands roam his chest as she pinches and plucks at his nipples. Her nails scratch sharply over his pecs. He gasps at the sensation, breaking the kiss.

“You're so beautiful when you throw away all the lies and are honest with me. I did so want you to fuck me tonight, but you had to go and be such a bad boy. Now, tell me what do you not understand.”

“Why are you not angry with me? Am I in trouble? Will I be punished? Do you intend to be rid of me?” 

He was at once hopeful and afraid. Her face softened, and she kissed him gently on the end of his nose.

“Yes, you are in trouble, but I am not angry with you. I have heard and understand your reasons, now you will hear and understand mine. Nothing terrible happened, no one got hurt, but you still need to be punished. There are consequences for actions. If I ignore that, you won't learn. I am not in the habit of hurting you just for my pleasure. I will hurt you for yours if you like.”

His cock twitched at the thought, and she smiled, grinding down on him.

“Mmm, you do like that idea. I want to make you some promises, Apollo, and I want you to listen. My father says a man is only worth the value of his word, so I take my promises seriously. I promise that someday, when I release you from your contract, it will be something we have discussed. I will keep you until I can no longer be your Mistress. I will keep you until you do not delight in seeing me. I promise I will never punish you in your room. I will punish you here, in mine, or in your stable, and occasionally in public, but never in your room. Wherever we are, you will have a place that is safe and sacred. I promise if you trust me, I will always take care of you. I promise if you are being punished, you will know. We will talk about what you did before we begin. I promise if you talk to me and are honest in how you feel, I will do my very best to protect and cherish that gift.”

He was completely and irrevocably ruined. Even if she didn't mean a word of it. Never again would he kneel for anyone else. He was a David, a Starry Night, a Champion, but only when she looked at him, and he didn't care for anyone else's opinions.

“Would you like to see your room, or do you want to get your punishment out of the way first?”

“I trust you will take care of me.” 

He means it, he knows it sounds like what she wants to hear, but he truly means it. She has plans upon plans, and if he is patient, she will see to everything. She sees things he has never known he has wanted until she gives them so freely.

“Well, help me up. I am sitting in a most unladylike fashion, and it really won't do to fall over.” 

He can't help but grin as he helps her up to her feet. There's a flash of cream colored silk  as she adjusts her robe, and he can't help but wonder what else it hides. Somehow, he can't quite imagine her in the black leather and latex so many of those who came before preferred.

She leads him by the hand through the other door in the room. It connects to a bathroom that then connects to another room. Its nearly empty, there's a sleeping mat like he has at the home, but this one is new with satin sheets. There are pillows and and a blanket at the foot. A small chest of drawers is filled with different pieces of clothing. There is a window with curtains thick enough to block the light. 

“You will tell me if you need or want something. I am sure you have things to bring from wherever you have been staying as well.”

In truth, he had almost nothing to call his own, but he didn't tell her that. He wanted to go back to his knees, to worship her the way he has been trained, because it's the only way he knows how to be grateful.

“So many thoughts in your head. Is this alright? Do you need something sooner rather than later?” Her fingertips ghost gently across his back in the barest imitation of the petting he was growing used to. Unconsciously, he leaned back into the touch and was immediately rewarded with a firmer stroke with her full hand.

“I don't know how to thank you. This is so much more than I have ever dreamed.”

“Well, now you have room to dream bigger dreams. I do expect you to wish for things, I want to spoil you.” She stepped closer, pressing herself into his back. 

“I want to lavish you in expensive gifts so you will always be able to look at them and know they are trinkets compared to what you are worth to me.”

She presses a kiss between his shoulders, her hands resting gently on his hips. He moves into her touch wanting more, needing it like it's an addiction. 

She kisses down his spine, raising goosebumps on his skin.

“You are so perfect,” she whispers softly and he’s not sure if she even said it for his benefit. In the end, he takes the words and gathers them close to his heart, because if they were never meant for his ears, they are even more precious.

“Are you ready for your punishment?”

He supposes it's half insanity, half curiosity that leads him to answer, “What happens if I say no?”

“We go to bed. Today has been understandably overwhelming. We can take care of it in the morning, but is that how you wish to begin your day?”

“No, Mistress, I'm ready now.”

She leads him back to her bedroom keeping her promise not to punish him in the space she's declared as his.

Her fingers slip beneath his waistband, tracing the line of his hips. 

“So beautiful, I may never get my fill of touching you. Would you like that, my Apollo? Will you let me touch every inch of you?” 

“Yes, Mistress.” It comes out on a breathy whisper as his dick springs to life at the idea. 

She unbuttons his pants and slides them off, tossing them aside. She guides him to her bed. 

“Down on all fours, good. Now stay.”

He watches as she moves around the room carefully selecting things from her various cases and putting them into a small blue pail.

She sits on the bed in front of him and selects a rubber bit gag from the pail. She presses it between his teeth buckling it behind his head.

“Sehr gut! That's my beautiful boy.”

He shivers as she trails fingers down his spine and over the crack of his ass. For several long minutes she explores the planes and lines of his body with feather touches. He comes alive beneath her fingers, rocking into her touch, but she never gives more than the lightest of caresses.

She pulls reins from the bucket and shows them to him briefly before hooking them onto his bit. Next comes a simple chest harness that crosses his front and back in an X.

“So beautiful,” she whispers and the words make him shiver in delight.

She pulls a cock ring out next and holds it up for his inspection.

She spends a moment getting it in place, her hands linger tugging and stroking until he’s pushing into her touch.

She lifts the reins over his head and pulls back until he can feel the gentle pressure on his bit holding his head in place. 

“My beautiful stallion. So very good for me,” Her fist presses between his shoulder blades, pushing his front half down into the bed. 

“Hold.”

He’s facing the wall unable to see what she's doing.

He can hear her as she moves behind him. He can hear the snap of buckles and the slide of a strap but nothing touches him. 

She takes his reins, pulling on just the one side to direct him to look at her.

She's shed the robe and it lays over the back of her chair. Underneath is the cream colored silk nightgown he glimpsed earlier. The very sight of her makes his heart jump in his chest. She's breathtaking, and he is overwhelmed by the very idea that such a goddess would think he too was beautiful.

It's the strap-on that he did not expect.

“I did tell you if you were a bad boy I was going to fuck you instead.”

His cock is throbs at the very thought. 

“So long as you are mine, I will be the only one to mount you. When it pleases me, you may mount someone else, but you will never let another take you.” She fists his reins at the back of his head, forcing him to look up at her.

“You are mine. You are not some piece of common, public property. Do you understand?” 

The venom and possessive nature in her tone makes heat curl in his belly and he nods. 

She picks up the lube and moves back out of his vision. Two slicked fingers press into his hole. The plug was nice, but it's been six months since he was fucked and he finds himself eager to be filled. She pushes deep and rather than pumping and prepping as he had expected she uses them only as a channel as she pours a generous amount of lube deep inside. It feels like too much, but the angle of his body keeps it inside.

She pulls her fingers away and the slicked head of the toy presses against his ass. She shifts it up and down past his hole.

“I considered several ways to punish you. The first was to forbid you to cum, to ride you long and hard and leave you wanting, but that's actually harmful long term.”

He groans long and low. The unspoken promise that he will get to cum at the end dangles before him

“I did consider making you cum again and again until you were empty. Pushing you until you ran dry and there was no more to give. That was my favorite, but it's been a full, long day, and we’re both tired.”

She pushes forward suddenly until she's fully seated, and he cries out around the bit at the intrusion. His hands fist in the sheets, and later she will find an imprint of his teeth in the bit. He's grateful now for too much lube, because the plug has been out over an hour, and she took no preparations. It's past uncomfortable and downright painful, and she's just sitting there buried in him to the hilt. Well, she's doing more than that, her hands are in constant motion up his spine, out across his shoulders down his sides.

“Shhh, settle now, settle, you can take it, such a good boy, my beautiful stallion.” She leans down pressing kisses between his shoulders. “I’ve touched you everywhere now. There isn't an inch of you that I am not the last person to feel, and I am so happy with all of it. Even your coward tongue.”

She rocks forward into him, pressing harder despite there being no more to give.

“No more secrets,” She pulls back and slams forward once more. “No more lies,” she drives home the point with another hard stroke. “There is no such thing as unteachable, and we will see how many different ways I must teach this lesson, because I will never give up on you.”

She reaches around and takes his cock in hand stroking it gently as she sets a slower softer pace, finally giving him the chance to adjust, tingles of pleasure running up his spine. “I want to be so good to you. I want to be proud of you, my sweet Apollo, the shining light of my world.”

He lets go of the bedding and works on getting his breathing back under control. He lives in the sensations, the push and pull and electric intensity of the way she fucks him, the warm twist of her hand on his cock, the press of her thighs, the soft caress of her nightgown. He feels alive and he wants more. He pushes forward into her hand, back into her hips. He just needs more, he needs everything.

“There's my wild thing,” she pulls back on his reins until he takes the hint and lifts himself up. She fucks him hard and deep, and he knows he’ll be sore in the morning, but he doesn't care. He bucks forward and surges back, following the shifting pressure of the reins and her hands. When she finally whispers, “Cum for me,” he feels every inch the wild beautiful thing she insists he is.

She never breaks her stride as he paints the bed spread. She keeps on after he finishes, and he becomes painfully sensitive. Her grip tightens and it takes everything in his power to hold still.

“No more secrets, Apollo. No more lies. Let me be good to you.”

She lets go of his cock, her hand moving to his hip as she pulls back, slowly pressing kisses down his spine as she pulls out of his ass. 

When she pops free, he wobbles, nearly falling.

“Woah! It's okay, sweet, I've got you.” She guides him to one side, hastily pulling back the blankets, tossing the soiled spread to the floor. She keeps a constant contact of one hand on him as the other hastily unbuckles the toy and tosses it off the bed. It lands with a heavy thud on the floor.

She pulls a damp towel from the bucket and wipes him down front and back before tossing it into the growing pile. 

When she lays down, her body curls around him. She peppers kisses between his shoulders. Her hand rests on his wrist, and he can feel calluses that seem so out of place on her perfectly kept hands. She just holds him without speaking or asking anything more of him. 

He's not sure when the tears begin, but he can't stop them. He's overflowing with too many things. 

He knows the moment she notices, because she sits up suddenly, pushing at his shoulder to roll him back.

She works quickly pulling off his bit.

“Are you alright? What's wrong? Did I hurt you too badly?”

He has always been trained to be the passive recipient of every interaction, but all he needs is her to go back to holding him.

He sits up and tucks himself against her. He balls up against her, his hands curling into fists, not wanting to give into the unsightly urge to cling to her and never let go.

She wraps her arms around him and cradles him close.

When the tears finally stop, he’s physically and emotionally exhausted. He feels every second of the last twenty-four hours like it was an eternity.

“Do you feel better?” She whispers into his ear.

He nods without lifting his head.

“You want to get rinsed off before bed?”

He shakes his head no. He wants to stay exactly like this forever.

“Alright, but no complaints tomorrow when you get a full grooming before breakfast. If you like, you can stay here tonight, but I won't be upset if you want to move back to your own bed.”

“I'll stay if it pleases you.”

“I'm never going to turn away the chance to touch you and hold you.” 

She reaches past him and clicks the lamp off before pulling the blankets up over the both of them.

If she were any other Mistress, he would be moving for his own bed. Right now, he's still not sure she's real. Again and again, she has treated him as a cherished and precious thing. He is held to a standard that he strives to fulfill because her pleasure is his greatest joy. 

Some time later, he gives over to sleep.

 

~*~*~

 

She still hasn't fully adjusted to the time change, and in the pre-dawn hour, she lays fully awake, watching him sleep. 

Far from pushing her away, his file had cemented for her the fact she wasn't giving up on him. Page after page, her heart broke. Where she was from, if you treated a beast with such disregard, you would be in prison. The Blackstone’s defensiveness over him made sense. He was used and tossed aside again and again, and somehow, he still put enough faith in her to follow.

Everything about him stirred something in her. He had the grace of a dancer, a body that could have been sculpted by the great masters and the eyes of an old soul. 

The first time he said ‘Yes, Mistress’ with that cheeky, happy smile she was gone.

She slides carefully from the bed. There's no point in waking him this early. 

The room is a mess. Last night, Apollo had been the only thing that mattered. This morning, reality rears its ugly head and she begins to tidy the disaster of a room.

She watches him sleep. He's flat on his stomach, hugging the pillow, the sheet riding low on his hips. He's beautiful asleep. She can't think of a moment she hasn't found him beautiful. 

Her phone chimes with a new message.

  * U up?




She rolls her eyes.

  * You know I despise shorthand. 

  * yes but im not urs and i type how i want now im awake n bored coffee?




She looked back at Apollo fast asleep, and knew she wasn't getting any more rest. She worried her lip and weighed her options. The decision was made when the picture flashed up of the French press steeping.

 

~*~*~

 

“How are things going? You were pretty upset when you got back yesterday. Did I get him in trouble with the movie I made you?”

She sips her coffee gently, considering how much to tell.

“No. I should show him the whole thing. I don't think he knows that love and domination  can be one and the same.”

Tomas nods staring into his cup.

“We never talked about my time here.”

“You never wanted to talk about it, and it was years in the past. I think I did alright.”

He smiles softly, a smile she knows all too well. It's colored with sadness and regret.

“Alexander was a good man. Deep, deep, all the way down, he was good. He was trying to be good, but he didn't know how. He found me in the favela. I was fourteen and was lucky enough to have my looks still. He offered me what felt like an impossible amount of money. It paid to get my mother and my sisters out, to get them a good life. In return, he owned me. So many of us were brought here that way. Promised the world from impossible poverty. I spent two years being trained in the arts of pleasure before Peter took me in. He didn't love me then. I don't think he even realized that he did until after I left.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. They had been friends so long and he had only ever talked glowingly about his Master before.

“You were different than anyone I have ever known. You did research.”

She laughs.

“What did you expect? You opened this door a fraction and refused to let me walk through until I was ready. I am not patient. So I found a way to be ready.”

“It wasn't like that here. We are property. Our limits were where our masters told us. I wanted what you gave me, I just wanted it from Peter, and I'm sorry for that. It wasn't fair to you.”

She doesn't want to think about what that means for Apollo. The file is full of hard facts. Activities, injuries, times, medical reports, but nothing of the man, now she knew why.

“My mother once told me that life is a journey, the only destination is death. We are finding our paths, and I don't regret anything that we had.”

“Not just because you have six and a half feet of naked pony boy in your bed who would fuck you for hours if you asked?”

“Shut it, you cheeky little shit.”

 

~*~*~

 

The first time he woke, it was to the sound of her typing in the dark. He drifted back to sleep, confident if she needed him, she would wake him. The second time he woke, it was only for a moment as she pressed a kiss to his temple and pulled the sheet higher. He hadn't realized he had fallen asleep again until the murmur of voices woke him.

She was standing in the doorway speaking to Tomas. It wasn't English, but her smile went all the way to her eyes. She kisses him tenderly on the cheek before saying her goodbyes and stepping all the way in.

There's a sharp pain in his chest he doesn't quite understand; he wishes she would have woken him if she needed something instead of calling Tomas.

He is awake now, he gets up to move to his mat on the floor. 

“Guten morgen, mein schatz. Did you sleep well?” 

“Yes, Mistress.”

She steps in front of him before he can make it to the mat. Her hands sweep over his chest. Her fingers tracing the lines of his body, her palms smoothing over everything in between and every bitter emotion drains away under her touch. She touches every inch of him from the neck down. She runs her hands down his arms, his legs, between his fingers and toes. He finds himself pressing into her touch. She didn't care who had touched him first, who had taken him first, who had been the one to have him when he was fresh and new. She cared only that she was the last, and to that end she covers him in tender caresses. When she presses so softly against his hole, he can't help the sharp intake of breath, he’s still tender. 

She kisses his shoulder softly.

“This could have been avoided if you had been honest with me. How bad is it?”

“I'm just sore, Mistress. I'll be fine.”

“Forgive me if I don't trust you to tell me things. We’ll have the doctor look at you later. Now come on, we need to clean you up before breakfast.”

She leads him to the bathroom with a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

She orders him to step into the tub before stripping herself. He knows he shouldn't stare, but she has seen and touched every inch of him and he has seen so little of her.

Her tan lines are not from the tiny bikinis of so many others, but from tank tops and long pants. There's a thin scar on her hip. When she turns to lay her things on the counter there is another, jagged and puckered, just under her shoulder.

She turns back and steps into the tub with him, adjusting the water to a comfortable temperature.

She doesn't speak as she washes him down, and he relies on the way she pushes against him to know how and when to move. She washes behind his ears and in every neglected crack and crevice she can find. Once he's washed, she steps him out and has him kneel beside the tub.

“Hold, stay.” 

She tilts his head up with a finger beneath his chin. 

“You are beautiful you know.” He can feel the warm blush spread across his cheeks.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

She kisses him in response, slowly coaxing his mouth open, her lips and tongue like velvet against his own.

“So beautiful,” she whispers against his lips.

She steps back into the shower and bathes herself. He watches her because she hasn't asked him to look away. He watches the water chase the soap suds down the slope of her breasts, through the dip of her navel, over the curve of her hip and down her thighs. His breath catches when she bends and her ass pushes toward her face. He would give so much if she would just let him worship her the way she deserves.

When she finishes, she steps out, dries, and orders him to heel.  They return to her room.

She sits in the same chair as the night before. He moves to kneel at his mat, and she stops him. 

“I know some things will be an adjustment for you, but you will stand unless I ask you otherwise. Do you like looking at me?”

“You’re a very beautiful woman, Mistress.”

He drops his gaze back to the floor. He wants to be better for her, he knows he can, he did not mean to forget his place. 

“Eyes up, Apollo. Stop treating everything I say like I'm scolding you. Besides, that's not what I asked. I know I'm beautiful, people tell me every day how lovely I am. I asked if you liked looking at me. Do I please you? Tell me honestly, Apollo. I don't care what you think I want to hear. I want my wild, angry thing back. I want your truth.”

Her foot slides up his leg, stroking back and forth along the inside of his thigh.

“Do you like looking at me?” She repeats.

“Yes, Mistress.” 

She smiles in the way that makes the whole room brighter. 

“I like it too. I want you to try something for me today. I want you to do as you please unless I ask you for something. We’re going to stay in today. Tomas has offered to answer any questions you have and a few you haven't thought of.”

Tomas. The perfect pony except for the fact he was too gay to fuck her the way she wanted. 

“Yes, Mistress.”

“What's your favorite color?”

“Blue, Mistress.” Blue like her eyes, blue like the sky. Blue like the curtains that used to hang in the doorway of a home so long ago and far away he had almost forgotten it completely. 

“Then today we wear blue.”

She dresses in well-worn, old jeans and a blue button-down shirt before guiding him back into his own room. She opens his dresser and pulls out a pair of briefs in the same shade. 

He can't help smiling, it's not quite a collar but it's a connection. He is part of the we she spoke of. 

She lays them on top of the dresser, then pulls a pair of tan slacks, setting them beside the briefs. 

“Get dressed, I'll just be in the bathroom getting my face on and fixing my hair. Take as much time as you like.”

She steps out of the room shutting the door behind her. 

It takes less than a minute to dress. He reaches for the door then stops. There is a war within his own mind. He should return to his Mistress. Her pleasure should be his only thought. He should see if she needs him. He wants her to need him.

At the same time, he could clearly see the alternate path she had put before him.

She had done everything except order him to explore the space.

He begins with the chest of drawers. There are briefs in every color of the rainbow and dozens of shades. He wonders if she will always dress him to match. 

A single drawer of shirts and two with slacks in various shades of black and brown. There's a small drawer designed to hold jewelry, it's empty and he can't help but remember her promise to shower him in gifts. The sleeping mat is comfortable and more than big enough for his over-large frame. He goes to the window and discovers it not only unlocked, but it opens easily. He can reach out and touch the flowers that grow just outside his window. It overlooks the back pasture, beyond which is the forest that shelters them from the world. 

 

* * *

 

He’s been in there almost five full minutes when the door opens. It's longer than she expected, and she smiles, proud of him. 

He leans against the door frame, and she can't help the way her heart skips a beat at the sight of him relaxed. She was afraid he was going to be one of those horses that can't overcome the abuse in their past, always expecting the next thing will get them beaten. 

She reaches out and strokes his chest softly. 

“What do you think?”

“The window opens.” He says it like he’s both amazed and delighted by the prospect. 

“When it's nice out, we can let some air in.”

She grabs another hairpin and fumbles it dropping it to the ground.

“Mist,” before she can go after it, he’s already picked it up and set it gently on the counter. He stares at the small piece of metal with anger. He's so expressive she can read his thoughts on his face, and he hates that hair pin.

“Apollo, hand it to me please.” 

He picks it up and holds it out to her. She catches his hand and kisses his fingers before taking it from him.

“That's my good boy.” 

She finishes pinning her braid into a crown around her head.

 

 

* * *

 

He picks it up because she dropped it. It was that simple. It wasn't until it was in his hand that he realized what it was. Some things have been forever changed in his eyes. He would never look at one and not feel the sharp sting of them held over a candle then laid across his back. He forces himself to put it down gently, afraid he'll drop it or worse. She makes him pick it up and hand it to her and all his attention is centered on keeping his hand steady as he does. 

She draws his hand up and places gentle kisses on his fingers before taking it. 

She doesn't want his pain, he reminds himself. She wants something more than his obedience and submission. Exactly what she wants, he’s still figuring out. 

She lets him stand there doing nothing as she finishes her hair and applies her make up. In time, he’ll learn how long she needs to do these things so he doesn't intrude. For the time being, he wants to stay close. He can't shake the feeling that this is a mistake, any moment someone's going to take him back with the unwanted. 

He's so caught in his own thoughts, he misses the moment she turns her attention on him.

Her hands are warm when she touches him.

“Apollo?”

She doesn't look up at him when she speaks, her eyes fixed on the scars that criss cross his abdomen. Her fingers run over each of them, for the first time paying them any special attention. As much as he tries not to think of them, he will tell her if she asks.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“No one touches you without permission. Do you understand?”

“I…” He pauses unsure.

“Speak your mind.”

“I'm not sure what I could do to stop them.”

“Whatever you must. And if they cannot respect what is mine, you will tell me and I will break their fucking hands.” 

He’s surprised by the venom in her voice.

“Mistress, I will be fine. I do not wish you to get in trouble.”

“No one touches you. This is not a discussion. I did not ask your opinion. You are mine, and I will not abide anyone disrespecting that. Do you understand me, Apollo?”

“Yes, Mistress.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how much effort I want to put into writing much more of this. I'll tag it better this afternoon but the last chapter got like 20 new hits and 2 comments. There's every chance I'll just close this here and retire the story if it continues to limp along. So if you want more. If you like this story comments are important. Because seriously I'm doing a WinterShock Handmaid's Tale crossover and dude... something needs to be retired I am doing WAY TOO MUCH.

**Author's Note:**

> You know the drill at the end of the day I really just want your love and approval so if you don't comment I'm going to convince myself this is shit and i never ever should have written it and then it will die a painful horrible silent death where all bad story ideas go to die. Because if i wrote every idea that popped into my head I'd have a million Chapter 1 of ? and no chapter twos.


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